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diff --git a/old/52650-0.txt b/old/52650-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a5aaf9f..0000000 --- a/old/52650-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13178 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hear Me, Pilate!, by William LeGette Blythe - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Hear Me, Pilate! - -Author: William LeGette Blythe - -Release Date: July 26, 2016 [EBook #52650] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEAR ME, PILATE! *** - - - - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan, Ron Box and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - [Illustration: decorative glyph] - - - - - HEAR - ME, - PILATE! - - - [Illustration: decorative glyph] - - LeGETTE BLYTHE - - - HOLT, RINEHART AND WINSTON · NEW YORK - - -Copyright © 1961 by LeGette Blythe - -All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or -portions thereof in any form. - -Published simultaneously in Canada by Holt, Rinehart and Winston of -Canada, Limited. - -First Edition - - -Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 61-11599 - - -Designer: Ernst Reichl - -81003-0211 - -Printed in the United States of America - - - FOR ANNE AND JULIE - - - - - Rome - - - [Illustration: decorative glyph] - - - - - 1 - - -The capricious flame spattered darts of thin yellow light on walls and -floor as the doors swung gently closed. Claudia turned from her tall, -deeply tanned, uniformed escort to address the servant who had let them -in. - -“I won’t be needing you tonight, Tullia. You may go now. But wait ... -before you leave, we shan’t be wanting all these lamps. Put out all but -that one”—she pointed—“and then you may go to bed. Poor thing, I know -you’re tired.” She peered beyond the wide archway opening onto the -peristylium. “I see you left a lamp burning in my bedroom. Good. Well, -then, just put these others out. - -“I don’t know what I’d do without her,” Claudia said as the servant -snuffed out the flame and, bowing to them, disappeared into the now -darkened corridor. “She’s a treasure, Longinus, intelligent, faithful, -and, most important, she’s utterly loyal. She would die before betraying -me. She’s Phoebe’s daughter, and Phoebe, you know, hanged herself rather -than be a witness against my mother. Tullia, I’m sure, would do the same -thing for me.” She pointed toward the peristylium. “Let’s sit out there -in the moonlight. It seems a little warm in here, doesn’t it?” - -“It does,” he answered. “I was hoping you’d suggest that. It would be a -shame to waste that moon, and the fountain and flowers.” He was glancing -around the luxuriously furnished room. “By the gods, Claudia, you have a -handsome place. It’s been a long time since I was here, but it seems -more lavish. Did Aemilius have it redecorated?” - -“Bona Dea, no. That insipid oaf? What has he ever done for me?” She -acted mildly piqued but then smiled. “It has been redecorated, but I had -it done. This apartment’s actually an extension of the Imperial Palace, -you remember. My beloved stepfather, the great Emperor Tiberius,” she -said sarcastically, “had it built for his little girls. When he moved -them out to Capri with him—a new group, of course, for several of us -were too old by then—he allowed me to stay here. But I moved away when I -married Aemilius; we went out to Baiae. After we were divorced, though, -I returned here, and that’s when I had it redecorated. But the place was -built for the Emperor’s little girls.” She paused, leaned against a -high-backed bronze chair. “You understand?” - -“I’ve heard stories, yes.” - -“Well, when poor Mother sent me to him from Pandateria—you know I was -born on that dreadful island soon after Grandfather Augustus banished -her there, and I really think she sent me to Tiberius to see that I got -away from it. Anyway, he put me in here with the other little girls. -This wing connects with his private quarters, or once did. There’s a -wing very much like this one on the other side; that’s where he kept his -boys.” She shrugged; he sensed that it was more a shudder. “Tiberius, -thank the gods, spent more time over on the boys’ side. There’s a small -passage-way—few persons probably know about it now—that opened from his -quarters into my dressing room. It was all quite convenient. But when -the old monster moved out to Capri, I had the door removed and the -opening bricked up.” - -“I’ve heard stories about the Emperor. Was he ... did he really ... I -mean, you know, Claudia, did he actually do ... does he, I mean...?” - -She laughed. “Yes, he did. And I presume he still does; they say old men -are worse that way than young men. But he no longer bothers me and -hasn’t for years. I’m much too old for him; he likes them very young, or -did. He’s an old rake, all right, though he can’t be guilty of all the -things they’ve charged him with. Out at Capri now I really think he’s -more interested in his astrologers and philosophers than in his little -girls and his painted pretty boys. But, well”—she shrugged—“there are -things I do know about him, experiences I myself have had with him, and -although I’m not close blood kin to him, my mother, poor thing, was his -wife though she was that only because her father forced her to marry -him.” They had crossed into the peristylium, and she paused to face him, -smiling. “But let’s talk no more of the Emperor and me, Longinus; by the -gods, there are pleasanter subjects.” - -“I agree; there are pleasanter subjects than Tiberius.” They walked -around a tall potted plant and sat down. Claudia leaned back against the -plush cushions of the couch; she pushed her jewel-studded golden sandals -out from beneath the folds of her white silk stola. The moonlight danced -in the jeweled clasps that fastened the straps above her shoulders, -while the gold mesh of her girdle glittered brightly. For a moment she -silently studied the fountain. Then suddenly she sat forward. - -“Forgive me, Longinus. Would you like some wine and perhaps a wafer? I -have some excellent Campania, both Falernian and Surrentine, in the -other room. Or perhaps you’re hungry....” - -“No, no, Claudia, thank you. I made a pig of myself at Herod’s dinner -tonight.” - -“But it was a lavish banquet, wasn’t it?” Her smile indicated a sudden -secret amusement. “I wonder what Sejanus will think of it.” - -“Sejanus?” Then he smiled with her. “Oh, I see what you mean. He’s going -to wonder where Herod got the money. And why Herod gave the dinner for -Herodias.” - -Claudia laughed. “Well, she’s his favorite niece, isn’t she?” - -“She surely must be. But she’s also his half brother’s wife.” Longinus -paused thoughtfully. “I hardly think, however, that Sejanus will be -greatly concerned with the domestic affairs of the Herods.” - -“As long as they keep the money flowing into his treasury, hmm?” - -“Exactly. And you’re right. Tonight’s lavish feast may cause the Prefect -to suspect that the flow is being partially diverted. Our friend Herod -Antipas ought to have given a more modest affair. No doubt he was -trying, though, to impress Herodias.” - -“No doubt,” Claudia repeated. “But it was hardly necessary. She wants to -marry him and be Tetrarchess.” - -Longinus looked surprised. “Then you think Antipas will take her away -from Philip?” - -“I’m sure he will. He already has, in fact.” - -“By the gods, that’s odd. That Arabian woman he left in Tiberias is much -more beautiful. And so is that Jewish woman he brought along with him to -Rome. What did you say her name was?” - -“I noticed you had eyes for her all evening.” Claudia’s tone, he -thought, was not altogether flippant, and that pleased him. “Her name’s -Mary,” she continued, “and she lives at Magdala on the Sea of Galilee -just above Tiberias. But of course you know where Tiberias is. And I -suspect you might remember Mary.” Her smile was coy and slyly -questioning. “Herodias says that this Mary is being pursued by half the -wealthy men in Galilee for the artistry with which she performs her -bedroom chores.” - -“I must confess”—Longinus grinned—“that unfortunately I am numbered -among the other half. But what does Herodias think of her beloved -uncle’s amours? Isn’t she jealous?” - -“Oh, I’m sure she is ... what woman wouldn’t be? But she knows that in -such activities she must share him. Antipas, I understand, is a true -Herod.” - -“Yes, and I have a strong suspicion that in such activities, as you -express it, Herodias is a Herod, too.” He sat forward, serious again. -“But what puzzles me, Claudia, is how I happened to be one of Antipas’ -guests tonight. It must have been entirely through your arranging, but -why on earth are you involved in a social way with any of these Jews?” - -Claudia laughed. “Herodias and I have long been friends. You see, after -her grandfather, old Herod the Great they called him, had her father and -her uncle, his own sons, killed”—she involuntarily shuddered—“Herodias -and her brother Agrippa were virtually brought up at the Emperor’s -court. Agrippa’s a spoiled, arrogant, worthless spendthrift. Old Herod -sent his other sons to Rome, too, to be educated—Antipas and Philip, -Herodias’ husband now, and still another Philip....” She broke off and -gestured to indicate futility. “You see, Longinus, old Herod had ten -wives and only the gods know how many children and grandchildren and -great-grandchildren. Do you know much about the Herods? They’re older -than we, of course.” - -Longinus shook his head. “No, nor do I care to. I think maybe I have -seen some of them a few times, including this Philip, but I happily -surrender to you any share I may have in any Jew.” - -“But, Longinus, the Herods aren’t orthodox Jews. They even say that some -of them, including Herodias and her no-good brother, are more Roman than -we Romans. They’ve all probably spent more time in Rome than in -Palestine. Why, they have about as much regard for the Jewish religion -as you and I have for our Roman gods. Actually, Longinus, the Herods are -Idumaeans, and they’re quite different from the rest of the Jews. The -Jews are strict in their religious observances.” Abruptly she stopped. -“But why, Bona Dea, am I telling you about the Jews? You have lived out -there in Palestine, and I’ve never set foot near it. Your father has -vast properties in that region, while mine....” She lifted a knee to the -couch as she twisted her body to face him, her dark eyes deadly serious -in the silver brightness of the moon. “Longinus, do you know about my -father?” - -“No, Claudia, nothing.” - -“Of course you don’t.” She smiled bitterly. “That was a silly question. -I don’t even know myself. I’ve often wondered if Mother did. But haven’t -you heard stories, Longinus?” - -“I was rather young, remember, when you were born.” But immediately he -was serious. “Gossip, Claudia, yes. I’ve heard people talk. But gossip -has never interested me.” A sly grin lightened his expression. “I’m more -interested in your father’s handiwork than in who he was.” - -“Prettily said, Centurion.” She patted the back of his bronzed hand. -“But surely you must have heard that my father was the son of Mark -Antony and Cleopatra?” - -“Well, yes, I believe I have. But why...?” - -“And that my other grandfather, the Emperor Augustus, had him killed -when he got Mother pregnant with me and then banished her to that -damnably barren Pandateria?” - -“I may have heard something about it, Claudia, but what of it? What -difference does it make?” - -“Do you mean to tell me that it makes no difference to you that I’m a -bastard, Longinus, and the discarded plaything of a lecherous old man, -even though that lecherous old man happens to be the second Emperor of -Rome? Does it make no difference to a son of the distinguished Tullius -clan...?” - -“And isn’t your slave maid, too, a member of this distinguished Tullius -clan?” - -His quick parrying of the question amused her. “It’s funny,” she said, -“I hadn’t thought of Tullia that way. Her grandfather belonged to one of -the Tullii, no doubt. But Tullia is actually not Roman; she’s Jewish. -Her grandfather was one of those Jews brought as slaves from Jerusalem -by Pompey. Tullia is even faithful to the Jewish religion. But that’s -her only fault, and it’s one I’m glad to overlook. Sometimes I allow her -to go to one of the synagogues over in the Janiculum Hill section.” - -Longinus reached for her hand. “Nevertheless, Claudia, you must know -that many so-called distinguished Romans are legitimate only because -their mothers happened to be married, though not to their fathers, when -they were conceived?” - -“Yes, I suppose so. No doubt you’ve heard the story of what Mother said -to a friend who asked her one day how all five of the children she had -during the time she was married to General Agrippa happened to look so -much like him.” - -“If I have, I don’t recall it. What was her answer?” - -“‘I never take on a passenger unless the vessel is already full.’” - -“I can see how that would be effective,” the centurion observed dryly. -“But then how do you explain ... well, yourself?” - -“After General Agrippa died, Augustus made Tiberius divorce his wife and -marry Mother. But they were totally incompatible, and I can see how, -under the circumstances, things turned out the way they did. Tiberius -left Rome and went out to Rhodes to live. That pleased Mother; she was -young and beautiful, and she was still the most sought-after of her set -in Rome. So, after Tiberius hadn’t been near her bed for years and a -succession of more interesting men had, it was discovered, to the horror -of my conventional and publicly pious grandfather and the delight of -Rome’s gossips, that I was expected. So the Emperor had the man who was -supposed to be my father”—she smiled—“you know, I’ve always rather hoped -he was—he had him executed, and he sent Mother off to Pandateria.” She -threw out her hands, palms up. “That’s the story of Mother’s misfortune, -me. But you must have heard about all this years ago?” - -He ignored her question. “You her misfortune? Don’t be silly. You were -rather, I’d say, her gift to Rome.” - -“You do put things prettily, Longinus. Nevertheless, my mother was -banished because of me.” - -“But, by the gods, how could you help it, Claudia?” He caught her chin -and turned her face around so that the moon shone full upon it. “Aren’t -you still the granddaughter of the first Emperor of Rome on one side and -a queen and triumvir on the other? Aren’t you still the stepdaughter of -the Emperor Tiberius? Those are distinguished bloodlines, by Jove! What -nobler heritage could anyone have? And aren’t you the most beautiful -woman in Rome? What, by mighty Jupiter, Claudia, do you lack?” - -“At the moment,” she answered, her serious air suddenly vanished, “a -husband.” - -“A situation you could quickly remedy.” - -“A situation that Tiberius or Sejanus could quickly remedy, you mean, -and may attempt to do soon, and not to my liking, I suspect. They may -even pick another Aemilius for me, the gods forbid. Seriously, Longinus, -I wouldn’t be surprised to learn right now that Sejanus has already -arranged it. He and the Emperor are desperately afraid, I suspect, that -I may scandalize Rome, as Mother did, if they don’t get me married -quickly before I have a baby and no husband to blame it on.” - -“But, Claudia....” - -“By the Bountiful Mother, Longinus,” she laughed, “I’m not expecting, if -that’s what you think. And what’s more, I don’t expect to be expecting -... any time soon. But I know Sejanus, and I know Tiberius. It’s all -politics, Centurion. And politics must be served, just as it was served -in my grandfather’s day and at every other time since man first knew the -taste of power. The same hypocritical public behavior, the same affected -virtues propped right alongside the same winked-at corruption.” She -swung her legs around and stood up. “But enough of this speech-making. -I’m going to bring us some of the Campania.” - -She returned with the wine on a silver tray and handed him one of the -two slender goblets. He held the glass up to the light and slowly -revolved its gracefully thin stem between his thumb and forefinger. - -“Don’t you like Campania?” - -“Very much,” he answered. “But it’s the glass that interests me. This -goblet comes from my father’s plant near Tyre.” - -“Oh, really?” She smiled. “I’m glad. I knew they were made in Phoenicia, -but I didn’t know they came from Senator Piso’s glassworks. Herodias -gave me several pieces from a set Antipas brought her. They are lovely.” -She lifted her own goblet and admired it in the moonlight. “Such -beautiful craftsmanship. You know, I’ve never understood how they can be -blown so perfectly. And I love the delicate coloring. Now that I know -they come from your father’s factory, they’re all the more interesting -to me, and valued.” She set the goblet down and sat quietly for a moment -studying the resplendent full moon. “Longinus, I’m so glad you’re back -in Rome,” she said at last. “It seems you’ve been away in Germania, and -before that in Palestine, for such a long time. Did you ever think of me -while you were away?” - -“Yes. And did you ... of me?” - -“Oh, yes, often, and very much. In spite of Aemilius.” She picked up the -goblet, then set it down again on the tripod and leaned against his -shoulder. “By the Bountiful Mother Ceres”—she bent forward, slipping her -feet out of the sandals—“I can’t get comfortable, Longinus. I’m too -warm. This stola’s heavy, and I’m so ... so laced.” She stood up. “Wait -here; I’ll only be a minute.” - -Diagonally across from them a thin sliver of lamplight shone through a -crack in the doorway to Claudia’s bedroom. She stepped into her sandals, -walked around the spraying fountain, and entered the room. “I won’t -close the door entirely,” she called back, as she swung it three-fourths -shut. “That way we can talk while I’m getting into something more -comfortable.” - -“I really should be going,” Longinus said. “I have early duty tomorrow.” - -“Oh, not yet, please. Do wait. I’ll be out in a moment. Pour yourself -some wine.” - -He poured another glass, sipped from it, then set the goblet on the tray -and settled back against the cushions. His gaze returned to the widened -rectangle of light in her doorway. In the center of it there was a -sudden movement. Surely, he thought, she isn’t going to change directly -in front of the open door. Then he realized that he was looking into a -long mirror on the wall at right angles to the doorway; he was seeing -her image in the polished bronze. In stepping back from the door she had -taken a position in the corner of the room just at the spot where the -angle was right for the mirror to reflect her image to anyone seated on -the couch outside. - -“By all the gods!” Longinus sat forward. - -But now she had disappeared. The mirror showed only a corner of her -dressing table with its profusion of containers—vials of perfumes, oils, -ointments, jars of creams—and scissors, tweezers, strigils, razors, he -presumed them to be, though because of the distance from them and the -table’s disarray he could not see them clearly. Now they were suddenly -hidden behind the brightness of the stola as the young woman again came -into view. She dropped a garment across a chair, then turned to face the -dressing table and the mirror above it. The light shone full upon her -back. Both stola and girdle behind were cut low, and the cold shimmering -whiteness of the gown accentuated the smooth warmth of her flesh tones. -Now her fingers were busy at the jeweled fastenings of the girdle; the -light flashed in the stones of her rings. Quickly the girdle came off, -and her hands went to one shoulder as her bracelets, their stones -glimmering, slipped along her arms. The clasp gave; the strap fell to -reveal warm flesh to her waist. She unfastened the other strap, and the -stola slipped to the floor. Bending quickly, she picked up the -voluminous garment and, turning, laid it with the girdle across the -chair. - -“Jove!” he exclaimed. “By all the great gods!” In the strong but -flickering light of the wall lamp, Claudia stood divested now of all her -clothing except for the sheer black silk of her scant undergarments. - -“Are you still there, Longinus?” she called out. “And did I hear you say -something?” - -“I’m here,” he answered. “But really, Claudia, I should be going.” He -hoped his voice did not betray his suddenly mounting tension. - -“No, not yet. Just a minute. I’m coming now.” - -She reached for a dressing robe and hurriedly swept it around her. -Fastening the belt loosely about her waist, she turned toward the -doorway and stepped quickly back into the peristylium. He stood up to -meet her. Gently she pushed him to the couch and sat beside him. - -“Please don’t go yet, Longinus. You’ve been away in Germania so long, -and I couldn’t have you to myself at the banquet. There’s so much to -talk about, to ask you about.” She leaned back and snuggled against him. -Then she looked down at her knees, round and pink under the sheerness of -the pale rose robe. “Bona Dea!” She clamped her knees together and -doubled the robe over them. “I didn’t realize this robe was so -transparent, Longinus. But it is comfortable, and there is only the -moonlight out here.” She reached out, caught his hand, squeezed it, and -released it. “And you can lean back and look only at the moon.” - -“But in Germania we had the moon.” - -“Yes, and women. I’ve heard much about the women of Germania, and seen -them, too. Women with yellow hair and complexions like the bloom of the -apricot or the skin of the pomegranate. And women free for the asking, -eh, Centurion?” - -“Not often for the asking. Sometimes for the taking.” He pulled her -close and felt through his tunic the quick surge of her warmth against -him. “But tonight is not Germania and women whose hair is the color of -ripening grain, Claudia. Tonight is Rome and a woman with hair as black -as a raven’s wing and skin fair and smooth and warm and greatly -tempting.” - -“A woman maybe for the asking, or the taking?” Quickly she twisted out -from the arm about her waist, and her gay, impish laughter broke upon -the fountain’s sleepy murmuring. “I didn’t know you were also a poet, -Longinus.” She reached for the pitcher. “Wine to toast the weaver of -beautiful words,” she said, filling the goblets; she handed him his, -then held hers aloft. “I drink to the new Catullus. ‘Let us live, Lesbia -mine, and love.’ - -“How did he say it...? - - “And all the mumbling of harsh old men - “We shall reckon as a pennyworth. - -“And then, well.... - - “Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, - “Then another thousand, then a second hundred, - “And still another thousand, then a hundred. - -“It goes on,” she added, “but that’s all I can repeat. Now drink with me -to your own pretty words.” - -Longinus laughed and sipped the wine. “Were his words quoted by you for -me ... from you? Remember that Catullus later wrote of his Lesbia: - - “A woman’s words to hungry lover said - “Should be upon the flowing winds inscribed, - “Upon swift streams engraved.” - -She leaned out from the shadow into which the retreating moon had pushed -them. “Maybe they were quoted to spur your asking, Longinus, or”—she -paused and smiled demurely—“your taking.” Then quickly she sank back -against him. “You think I’m a blatantly bold hussy, don’t you?” - -“No, Claudia,” he smiled, “just experienced. And beautiful, and ... and -very tempting.” - -“Experienced, yes, but believe me, not promiscuous, Longinus. By the -Bountiful Mother, I’m not that way, in spite of my experience.” The -teasing was gone from her eyes. “In spite of everything, not that.” - -She snuggled against his arm outstretched along the back of the couch, -and gently he half turned her to let her head down upon his lap. Her -eyes were wide, and in each he saw a luminous and trembling small, round -moon; her mouth was open, and against his thigh he felt the quickened -pounding of her heart. As he bent over her, she reached up and drew him, -her hot palm cupping the back of his cropped head, down hard upon her -lips tasting sweet of the Campania and desperately eager and burning. - -He raised his face from hers and lifted her slightly to relieve the -pressure of her body on his arm. She drew up her feet and, with knees -bent, braced them against the end of the short couch. Her robe slipped -open, and she lay still, her eyes closed, her lips apart. - -His throat tightened, and he felt a prickling sensation moving up and -down his spine, coursing outward to his arms and past tingling palms to -his fingertips. Deftly he eased his legs from beneath her; lowering her -head to the couch, he stood up. - -“Oh, Longinus, please, not now,” she pleaded, her voice tense, her tone -entreating. “Please don’t leave me now.” - -For a moment he stood above her, silent, and then, bending down quickly, -he lifted her from the couch and started toward the still open bedroom -door. He was past the fountain when a sudden, loud knocking at the -entrance doors shattered the silence. - -“Oh, Longinus, put me down!” She swung her legs to the floor. “Bona Dea, -who could be coming here at this hour! Of all the damnable luck!” She -stared in dismay at her disarrayed and transparent robe. “By all the -gods, I can’t go into the atrium dressed like this! Longinus, will you -go? Tullia’s probably sound asleep.” With that, Claudia darted into the -bedroom, while the pounding grew ever louder and more insistent. - -Longinus started toward the door, but before he could reach it, Tullia -had appeared from the corridor. She quickly opened the door, then backed -away as the robust soldier stepped inside. - -“I am seeking the Centurion Longinus. I was told ... ah, there you are!” -he cried. - -“Cornelius! What are you doing here?” - -“Longinus! By Jove! I’ve been searching all Rome for you.” - -“But I thought you were still in Palestine.” - -“And I thought you were still in Germania!”—Cornelius laughed—“until -today.” - -“Come, sit down,” Longinus said. “When did you get back?” - -“Only a week ago, and most of that time I’ve been out at Baiae with the -family. I came into Rome today to report to the Prefect.” - -“Jove! Is he going to name you Procurator of Judaea, Cornelius? I hear -that Valerius Gratus is being recalled.” - -“Me Procurator? Don’t be silly, man. No, but I have an idea it’s -something concerned with Palestine that has him calling for you. I’ve -got orders to find you and bring you to his palace immediately. So we’d -best be going, Longinus.” - -“To see Sejanus? At this hour?” - -“Yes, he said it was urgent. He’s leaving early tomorrow morning for -Capri, and he says he’s got to see you before he goes.” - -“By the gods!” Longinus’ countenance was suddenly solemn. “What have _I_ -done?” - -“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing to be alarmed about. Probably some special -assignment or other. I don’t know. But come, man, you know Sejanus -doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Get your toga. I have a sedan chair -outside.” - -“In a minute, Cornelius. I must tell Claudia.” - -“Couldn’t her maid explain...?” - -But Longinus already was striding toward the peristylium. “Claudia,” he -called through the crack in the doorway, “the Prefect has sent for me. I -don’t know what he wants, but I’ve got to be going.” - -“Bona Dea!” She was just inside the door. “Sejanus?” - -“Yes. Cornelius says he wants to see me tonight, right now. I don’t have -any idea what he could want, but tomorrow night, if I may see you then, -I’ll explain everything.” - -“What could that old devil be wanting with you, Longinus?” The question -seemed addressed more to herself than to him. “Yes, of course, you must -come. I’ll be anxious to know.” - -The sound of his retreating steps echoed along the peristylium and -across the mosaic floor of the atrium. Claudia listened until she heard -Tullia shut the double doors, and then there was silence. She closed her -own door and crossed to her still undisturbed bed; she flung herself -upon it. - -“Sejanus, the devil! The old devil!” With furious fists she pounded on -the bed. “May Pluto’s mallet splatter his evil brains!” - - - - - 2 - - -“Centurion Longinus, how well do you know Pontius Pilate?” - -The Prefect Sejanus sensed that the soldier was hardly prepared for the -blunt question. He had only a moment ago entered the ornate chamber. But -Sejanus added nothing to qualify the question. Instead, he seemed to -enjoy Longinus’ momentary uneasiness. His small eyes reflected the light -from the lamps flanking the heavy oak desk behind which he sat, while he -waited for the centurion to answer. - -“Sir,” Longinus at last began, “during our campaign in Germania he -commanded the cohort of which my century was a unit, but I cannot say -that I know him well.” - -“Then you and Pontius Pilate”—the Prefect paused and smiled -blandly—“could hardly be described as devoted friends or intimates?” - -“That is true, sir, and I am not sure that Pilate....” He hesitated. - -“Please speak frankly, Centurion.” The Prefect’s smile was disarmingly -reassuring. “You were about to say, were you not, that you are not sure -that Pilate has many intimate friends?” - -“I was going to say, sir, that in my opinion Pilate is not the type of -soldier who has many intimate friends. I may be doing him an injustice, -but I have never considered him a particularly ... ah ... sociable -fellow. I have the feeling that he is a very ambitious man, determined -to advance his career....” - -“And his private fortune?” - -Longinus thought carefully before answering. “So far as that is -concerned, sir, I really cannot say. I have no information whatever on -which to base an opinion. Nor did I intend to indicate in any way that I -thought Pilate was seeking advancement in the army in an improper -manner.” - -Sejanus sat back in his chair. His falcon-like eyes darted back and -forth as they measured and appraised the young man. “Centurion,” he -said, leaning forward and smiling ingratiatingly, “you are cautious, and -you evidence a sense of loyalty to your superiors. Both qualities I -admire, particularly in the soldier. This makes me all the more -confident that you will be able to carry out the assignment I propose to -give you.” He stared unblinkingly into the centurion’s eyes. “Longinus, -no doubt you have been wondering why I sent for you, why I insisted you -come at this late hour, and why we are closeted here alone.” - -“Yes, sir, I have been wondering.” - -“It is irregular, of course, even though it is with the son of Senator -Marcus Tullius Piso that the Prefect is closeted.” The wry smile was -gone now; the Prefect’s countenance was serious. “Longinus, you must be -aware of the regard your father and I have for each other. You must know -that we also understand each other, that we are colleagues in various -enterprises widely scattered about the Empire.” - -“I know, sir, that my father has a high regard for the Prefect, and I -have known in a vague way of your association in certain business -enterprises.” - -“Yes, and they have been profitable to both of us, Longinus. Have you -ever wondered, for instance, how it happens that whenever your father’s -plants in Phoenicia begin to run low on slaves, a government ship always -arrives with fresh ones?” - -Longinus nodded. “Whenever such a vessel arrived, I always thought I -knew why. But I never asked questions or ventured comments, sir. I just -put the new slaves to work.” - -“Excellent. You are discreet, indeed. There is nothing more valuable to -me than an intelligent man who can keep his eyes open and his mouth -closed.” Sejanus arose, came around the desk to sit in a chair at arm’s -length from the centurion. “Longinus, the assignment I propose to give -you is of immense importance. And it is highly confidential in nature.” -His expression and voice were grave. “To accomplish it successfully, the -man I choose will have to be always on the alert; he will have to have -imagination and initiative; he will need to exercise great caution; and -above all, he will have to be someone completely loyal to the Prefect.” -For a long moment his quickly darting eyes appraised the soldier. “I -know that you are intelligent, Longinus, and I am satisfied that you -possess these other qualities.” He leaned forward and tapped the -centurion on the knee. “I had a purpose in asking you if you knew -Pontius Pilate well. Tomorrow Pilate is to see me. If everything goes as -I expect, then we shall start for Capri to see the Emperor, and the -Emperor will approve officially what I shall have done already.” He -paused and smiled cynically. “You understand, of course?” - -Longinus smiled. “I believe, sir, that you speak for the Emperor in such -matters, do you not?” - -“In all matters, Longinus. The Emperor no longer concerns himself with -the affairs of the Empire.” His piggish eyes brightened. “He’s too busy -with his astrologers and his philosophers and his”—he smiled with -contempt—“his friends.” But suddenly the contemptuous smile was gone, -and Sejanus sat back in his chair. “Longinus, Pontius Pilate is anxious -to succeed Valerius Gratus as Procurator of Judaea.” - -The centurion sensed that the Prefect was waiting for his reaction. But -he said nothing. Sejanus leaned forward again. “I am speaking in -complete frankness, Longinus. We must understand each other; you must -likewise speak frankly to me. But what we say must go no further. Is -that clear?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Good. Now to get back to Pilate. He’s a man well suited to my purpose, -I’m confident.” Once more the Prefect hesitated, as if seeking a way to -proceed. “Some years ago, before you went out to Phoenicia, the -Emperor’s nephew, General Germanicus, was fatally poisoned at -Alexandria. It was rumored at the time that the Emperor had ordered it. -Pilate, who served in Gaul under Germanicus, came stoutly to the -Emperor’s defense with the story that the poisoning had been done by -supporters of the Emperor but without his knowledge, because they had -learned that the nephew was plotting the uncle’s downfall. Perhaps you -heard something about this?” - -“I believe I did hear something to that effect, sir. But that was about -seven years ago, wasn’t it?” - -“Yes, no doubt. Time passes so fast for me, Centurion. But let’s get -back to Pontius Pilate. He’s ambitious, as you suggested, and as I said, -he wants to be appointed Procurator in Judaea. So he should be amenable -to ... ah, suggestions, eh, Centurion? And he should therefore be a -perfect counterpart in Judaea to the Tetrarch Antipas in Galilee.” -Sejanus suddenly was staring intently at the sober-faced young soldier. -“How well, Longinus, do you know Herod Antipas?” - -“I hardly know him at all, sir. I’ve seen him a few times; I used to go -into Galilee and other parts of Palestine for our glassware plants; I -tried once, I remember, to sell him glassware for the new palace he was -building on the Sea of Galilee. But those were business trips, you see, -and I rarely saw him even then. I was usually directed to speak with the -Tetrarchess or Herod’s steward.” - -“But you were a guest at the banquet he gave this evening, weren’t you?” - -“I was, sir.” Longinus wondered, almost admiringly, how the Prefect -managed to keep so well-informed of even the most private goings-on in -Rome. - -“It was a sumptuous feast, no doubt?” - -“It was quite lavish, sir.” - -“Hmmm. I must remember that.” The Prefect puckered his lips, and his -forehead wrinkled into a frown. Leaning across the desk, he drew his -lips tightly against his teeth. “Soon, Longinus, you will be having two -to watch.” His eyes narrowed to a squint. “Three, in fact.” - -“To watch, sir?” - -“Yes, that is the assignment I have for you, Longinus. I am sending you -out to Palestine, to be my eyes and ears in the land of those -pestiferous Jews. At intervals you will report”—he held up his hand, -palm out—“but only to me, understand. You will travel about the various -areas—Caesarea, Jerusalem, Tiberias, to your father’s plants in -Phoenicia, perhaps other places—ostensibly on routine tasks for the -army. The details will be worked out later.” He leveled a forefinger at -the centurion. “It will be your task, among the various duties you will -have, Centurion, to report to me any suspicions that may be aroused in -your mind concerning the flow of revenues into the Imperial treasury in -accordance with the terms that I shall make with Pontius Pilate, and -likewise with the revised schedules I shall”—he paused an instant, and -his smile was sardonic—“suggest to the Tetrarch Antipas before he -returns to Galilee.” He sat back, and his sharp small eyes studied -Longinus. - -“Then, sir, as I understand it, you are suspicious that both Pilate and -Antipas may withhold for themselves money that should be going to Rome?” - -“Let’s put it this way, Longinus.” The Prefect leaned toward the -centurion and tapped the desk with the ends of his fingers. “I don’t -trust them. I know the Tetrarch has been dipping his fat hand into the -treasury, though not too heavily thus far, let us say. That white marble -palace at the seaside, for example, and the gorgeous furnishings, -including Phoenician glassware, eh?” He shot a quizzical straight glance -into the centurion’s eyes, but quickly a smile tempered it. “We don’t -object to his buying glass, do we, as long as it comes from your -father’s plants?” - -But just as quickly the Prefect was serious again. He sat back against -the leather and put his hands together, fingertips to fingertips. “Herod -Antipas wants to be a Herod the Great,” he declared. “But he hasn’t the -character his father had. By character, Centurion, I mean courage, -stamina, strength, and ability, yes. Old Herod was a villain, mean, -blackhearted, cold-blooded, murderous. But he was an able man, strong, a -great administrator, a brave and brilliant soldier, every inch a ruler. -Beside him, his son is a weakling. Herodias, on the other hand, is more -like her grandfather than Antipas is like his father. She’s ambitious, -vain, demanding. She is continually pushing Antipas. She seeks -advancement, more power, more of the trappings of royalty.” He lifted a -forefinger and shook it before the centurion. “Herodias will likely -bring ruin upon both of them.” Then he paused, thoughtful. “But so much -for Antipas. Watch him, Longinus. If he”—his expression warmed with a -disarming smile—“buys too much of that Phoenician glass, then let me -know.” - -“I will, sir.” Longinus was smiling, too. Then he was serious. “But, -sir, you were speaking also of Pontius Pilate....” - -“Yes. I think Pilate is the man I want for Judaea. But I don’t trust him -either. I want him watched closely, Longinus. I suspect that his fingers -will be itching, likewise, to dip too deeply into the till.” - -“But, sir, if you can’t trust him....” - -“Why then am I sending him out there?” The Prefect laughed cynically. -Then he sobered. “It’s a proper question, my boy. We must be frank, as I -said. I’ve told you that I believe Pilate will be amenable to -suggestions. Like Antipas, he, too, is a weakling. He has a good record -as a soldier, but always as a subordinate. I question whether he has the -courage, the stamina, to lead and rule. He will be looking to Rome, I -believe, for direction. And he will always be fearful of displeasing the -Prefect. But at the same time, Longinus, I think he will be looking for -ways of adding to his personal wealth. So he will bleed those Jews to -get all Rome requires and some for his own pocket as well.” He paused, -thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, I believe Pontius Pilate is the man I -want. Certainly I shall give him a chance to prove himself.” Quickly he -raised an emphatic finger. “But I want you to watch him, Longinus. I -want you to ascertain whether any diversions are being made in the flow -of the tax revenues to the Imperial treasury, and if so, to report it to -me. Even if you have no proof, but only strong suspicions to go on, by -all means report them too. I’ll work out a plan whereby you can make the -reports confidentially and quickly.” - -The Prefect paused, leaned back in his chair, and calmly studied the -younger man. When Longinus ventured no comment, Sejanus continued with -his instructions. “You will be transferred from your present cohort to -the Second Italian. Your rank will remain the same; as a centurion you -will be more useful to me, since you will be less observed and therefore -less suspected in this lower grade. But you will be properly -compensated, Longinus, with the extent of the compensation being -governed in great part, let us say”—he puckered his lips again—“upon the -degree of functioning of your eyes and ears.” - -Sejanus arose, and Longinus stood with him. “You have made no comment, -Centurion Longinus.” - -“Sir, I am at the Prefect’s command. But may I ask when I am to be given -further instructions and when I shall be sailing for Palestine?” - -“Soon, Centurion, as quickly as I can arrange it. I would like you to go -out ahead of Pilate and be there when he arrives at Caesarea. It will be -important to observe how he takes over the duties of the post from the -outset. I shall summon you when I am ready and give you full -instructions.” - -The audience with the Prefect was at an end. At the door, as he was -about to step into the corridor, Longinus paused. “Sir, a moment ago you -said there would be three for me to watch. You spoke of Pilate and Herod -Antipas. Who is the third?” - -Sejanus smiled blandly and rubbed his hands together. “The third, ah, -yes.” His black small eyes danced. “And there will be others also. But -you need not concern yourself with any of this detail at the moment. -When I have completed my plans, as I’ve said, I shall summon you here -and instruct you fully.” - - - - - 3 - - -Longinus sat up in bed, thrust forth an arm to peel back his side of the -covering sheet, pulled up his feet, and twisted around to plant them -evenly on the floor. - -“Jove!” He craned his neck, blinked his still heavy eyelids, and -strained to rub the cramped muscles at his shoulder blades. From the -northeast, rolling down through the gentle depression dividing the -mansion-studded slopes of the Viminal and Quirinal Hills, came the -fading plaintively sweet notes of a trumpet. He glanced toward the -window; the light was already beginning to sift through slits in the -drawn draperies. - -Claudia opened her eyes. She pushed herself up to a sitting position. -“Are you going, Longinus? Must you be leaving so early?” She rubbed her -eyes and squinted into the slowly brightening window. “Do you have -to...?” - -“The morning watch at Castra Praetoria,” he explained, nodding in the -direction of the window. “It awakened me, luckily. I must be out there -before the next call is sounded. Today I’m on early duty.” - -“You always have to be going.” Her lips, the rouge smeared but still -red, were pouting. “You hardly get here, and then you say you must be -leaving.” - -“But, by the gods, Claudia, I’ve been here all night, remember.” He -pinched her chin. “I had dinner with you, and I haven’t left yet.” - -“Oh, all right. But if you must go, you’d best be dressing. Although, -really, Longinus, can’t you stay a few minutes longer, just a few? -Please.” She slid back to lie in a stretched position, her figure -clearly outlined beneath the light covering. - -“Temptress! By the gods, I wish I could.” He bent down and kissed her -smeared lips. “Well, at least it won’t be like this when we get to -Palestine. Out there I’ll be able to arrange my own schedule, and -there’ll be no early morning duty then. But by great Jove, I’ve got to -be going now.” He stood up and walked to the chair on which his clothing -lay. “Today I’ll begin getting preparations made so that we can be ready -to sail when Sejanus gives me his final orders. And the preparations -will include arrangements for our wedding,” he concluded, grinning. - -Languidly she lay back and watched him as he dressed. “Longinus,” she -said, as he finished latching his boots, “do you really believe that -your father will be willing to let you marry me?” Her expression -indicated concern. “I have no doubt but that my beloved stepfather will -be quite willing, quite happy, in fact, because I’m sure he’s already -anxious to be freed of the responsibility he has, or thinks he has, for -me. But I do wonder about Senator Piso.” - -“By the great and little gods, Claudia, it’s not the senator you’re -marrying, remember? _I’m_ the one,” he said, thumping his chest with -stiffened thumb. “Me, understand?” - -“Of course, silly man.” She sat up again and fluffed the pillow behind -her. “But the senator might object, Longinus. He’s a proud man, proud of -his name, his lineage. He’s not going to like the idea of his son’s -marrying a bastard and a divorcee, even though she may be the -granddaughter of the Emperor Augustus.” - -“He won’t object, Claudia; I’m sure of it. But even if he should, I’d -marry you anyway, despite him, despite Sejanus, despite even old -Tiberius himself.” He adjusted his tunic, then came over to stand by the -bed. “Remember that, Claudia.” - -“Even in spite of last night?” She was smiling up at him, and she said -it capriciously, but he thought he detected a note of seriousness in her -voice. “You don’t think I’m terribly wanton, Longinus?” - -“Last night makes me all the more determined.” He studied her for a long -moment; her expression was coy, but radiant too, a little wistful and -warmly affectionate, he saw. “Wanton? Of course not, my dear.” A -mischievous grin slowly crossed his face. “Wanting, maybe. And wanted -certainly, wanted by me. The most desirable woman I’ve ever known, the -most wanted.” He bent down to her, his eyes aflame, and gently he pushed -the outthrust chin to separate slightly the rouge-smudged lips raised -hungrily to his. Greedily their lips met and held, and then as the girl -lifted a hand to the back of his head to crush his face against hers, he -grasped the protecting sheet from her fingers and flung it toward the -foot of the bed. - -“Oh, you beast!” she shrieked. “By all the silly little gods!” - -Roaring, he darted for the peristylium. As he fled past the long mirror -near the doorway, he caught in it a glimpse of the laughing Claudia -struggling wildly to cover herself with the twisted sheet. - - - - - 4 - - -The magnificent villa of the Prefect Lucius Aelius Sejanus clung -precariously to the precipitous slope high above the blue waters of the -bay. The greater part of the mansion had been built some hundred years -before in the days of Lucius Licinius Lucullus by one of the general’s -fellow patricians. This man’s family had suffered the misfortune of -having had the villa confiscated after the pater familias had been -beheaded for making the wrong choice in a civil war of that era. - -Sejanus had acquired the property—many Romans wondered how, but they -were too discreet to inquire—and had added to it extensively, including -a spacious peristylium with a great fountain that spouted water piped -from higher on the slope and palms and flowers and oriental plants. But -most interesting of his improvements was the spreading terrace pushed -outward from the peristylium to the very edge of the precipice, paved in -ornate mosaic with slabs of marble transported in government barges from -quarries far distant—gray and red from Egypt, yellow in various shades -and black from Numidia, green cipolin from Euboea—and bordered by a -protecting balustrade of white Carrara. - -This morning the Prefect and his guest, Pontius Pilate, a cohort -commander lately returned from a campaign in Germania, sat on this -terrace before a round bronze table whose legs were molded in the size -and likeness of a lion’s foreleg. On the table were a pitcher and -matching goblets. Pilate, large, broad-framed, with a round head and -hair closely cropped, a heavy man and, in his early forties, perhaps a -score of years younger than the Prefect, was eying the unusual pitcher. -Sejanus motioned to it. - -“You may be interested in glassware,” he said, as he reached over and -with a fingernail tapped one of the delicate blue, blown goblets. “These -pieces came from Phoenicia. No doubt you will have the opportunity while -you’re in Judaea to visit the glassworks where they were blown. It’s -situated near Tyre, up the coast from Caesarea and not far from Mount -Carmel. One of Senator Piso’s enterprises.” He fastened his unblinking -small eyes on Pilate’s florid face. “But of course you won’t be -concerned with this operation. It’s not in Judaea anyway, and its -affairs—so far as Rome is concerned—are being supervised from Rome.” - -Pilate nodded. “I understand, sir.” - -“Good. It’s important that you do understand fully. There should be no -area, for example, in which your duties and responsibilities overlap -those of Tetrarch Herod Antipas. I trust that you’ll always bear that in -mind.” - -“You can depend upon my doing so, sir.” - -“Then is there anything else not entirely clear to you concerning your -duties, powers, and functions as I’ve outlined them? Do you fully -understand that as Procurator you will be required to keep the Jews in -your province as quiet and contented as possible—and they are a -cantankerous, fanatical, troublesome race, I warn you—even though you -will be draining them of their revenues to the limit of their -capacities?” He held up an admonishing forefinger. “And do you also -understand that it is tremendously important for you, as Procurator of -Judaea, to avoid becoming embroiled in any of the turmoils arising out -of their foolish but zealously defended one-god system of religion?” -Sejanus curled his lower lip to cover the upper and slowly pushed them -both out into a rounded tight pucker; his eyes remained firmly fixed on -the cohort commander’s face. “It is a difficult post, being Procurator -in Judaea, Pilate.” - -“It is a difficult assignment, sir, but it’s one that I’ve been hoping -to obtain, and I appreciate the appointment. I understand what is -required, and I shall make every effort to administer Judaea to the best -of my ability and in accordance with your instructions.” - -“Then you may consider yourself Procurator, Pilate. When the Emperor -gives you your audience tomorrow, he will approve what I have actually -already done.” A sly smile overspread the Prefect’s weasel face. “But -there is one thing further that you must agree to do, Pilate, if you -wish to become Procurator of Judaea.” He stood, and Pilate arose, -remaining stiffly erect. Sejanus walked to the marble balustrade and -looked down at the blue water far below. “But first, come here. I want -to show you something.” - -The cohort commander strode quickly to the Prefect’s side. Sejanus -pointed toward the north. “Look,” he said, “Misenum there, and just -beyond is Baiae. Over there”—he swept his arm in an arc—“is Puteoli. And -in this half-moon of shore line fronting on the bay between here and -Puteoli’s harbor, in those mansions scrambling up the slopes”—he drew a -half circle in the air that ended with his forefinger pointing straight -south—“in this lower district of Campania from here to Puteoli and -Neapolis and around the rugged rim of the gulf, past Vesuvius and -Herculaneum, Pompeii and Surrentum out to the end of Capri is embraced -the very cream of the Empire’s aristocracy and wealth.” He turned to -face north again. “There. That is the villa for which Lucullus paid ten -million sesterces. You can see parts of the roof among the trees and -flowering plants. They say that some of the cherry trees he introduced -from Pontus are still bearing. Yes, they rightly call this the -playground of the Empire. Look down there,” he said, pointing toward the -gaily colored barges idling along the shore between Baiae and Puteoli. -“There you will find beautiful women, Pilate, gorgeous creatures who are -completely uninhibited, delightfully immoral. Beautiful Baiae, where -husbands able to afford it can find happy respite from monogamy. Ah, -Ovid, how you would sing of Baiae today!” - -Silently for a moment now the Prefect contemplated the villa-filled -slopes, the pleasure barges, the lazily lifting sulphurous fumes above -Lake Avernus in the crater of an extinct volcano to the north, and the -sleeping cone of Vesuvius looming magnificently in the west. Then he -turned again to face Pilate, and a sly, malevolent smile crossed his -narrow face. “You, too, Commander, some day can live in luxury out there -on the slope above Baiae ... if you manage affairs in Judaea properly,” -he paused, for emphasis, “by following explicitly the instructions you -have received and will continue to receive from me.” - -“I am ambitious, sir,” Pilate answered, “and I would take great pleasure -some day in joining the equestrian class here. But whether I am able to -achieve a villa at Baiae or not, I am determined to follow explicitly -the Prefect’s instructions and desires.” His hand on the marble -balustrade, Pilate studied the movement in the bay. Then he faced the -Prefect. “But you said a moment ago, sir, that there was still one more -provision?” - -“Yes, Pilate.” Sejanus pointed to the chairs beside the lion-legged -table. “But let’s sit down and have some more of the Falernian.” - -As they took their seats, a slave who all the while had been hovering -attentively near-by came forward quickly and filled the goblets. Sejanus -sipped slowly. “Surely you have guessed that the Emperor and I confer at -times on matters of particular intimacy, such as the problems of his -household, even the affairs of members of his own Imperial family?” - -“I can see, sir, how the Emperor would wish the Prefect’s counsel in -matters of every kind.” - -“That is true.” Sejanus toyed with the wine glass, then abruptly set it -down. “This is the provision, Pilate, and I think it not unreasonable. -In fact, I might explain that it was at my suggestion that Tiberius has -included it. And were I in your position, Pilate”—his eyes brightened, -and he flattened his lips against his teeth—“I would be delighted that -such a provision had been made. She is a beautiful woman, young, -possessed of every feminine appeal, and a woman to be earnestly desired -and sought, at least in the opinion of one old man who”—he smiled—“can -still look, appreciate, and imagine.” - -“A woman?” - -“Yes, Pilate. The Emperor expects you to marry his stepdaughter.” - -“Claudia!” Pilate said in amazement. “The granddaughter of Augustus?” - -“Indeed.” Sejanus was eying him intently. “And of Antony, too, and -Cleopatra, I’ve always understood.” A sly smile again crossed his face. -“And, if I’m a capable judge, a woman possessed of everything Cleopatra -had.” - -Pilate seemed oblivious to the Prefect’s description. “But why should he -want me, the son of a Spanish...?” - -“But you will be Procurator of Judaea,” Sejanus interrupted. “Look, -Pilate,” he went on, his face all seriousness now, “I’m sure you’ve -heard the story of Claudia’s mother, the wife of Tiberius. Augustus was -forced to banish her when her adulteries became notorious. It’s one of -those paradoxes, Pilate, of Imperial life. The Emperor may indulge in -any of the ordinarily forbidden delights, adultery, pederasty”—he smiled -again, but this time his smile was a scarcely concealed sneer—“but his -stepdaughter may not. Or she may not publicly, at any rate. And now that -Claudia is divorced from Aemilius and has no husband to point to in the -event that....” He paused and laid his hand on Pilate’s arm. “I dislike -putting the matter so bluntly, Pilate, but there is no other way to -explain the situation. The Emperor wishes to forestall any scandal. The -best way to do so, he thinks, is to have his stepdaughter married and -sent as far away as possible from Rome.” - -“But, sir, doesn’t custom forbid the wives of generals and legates and -procurators from journeying with them to their provincial posts?” - -“Custom, yes. But custom is not always followed. Agrippina, for example, -accompanied Germanicus on his campaign in the north. Caligula was born -while she was away with the general.” He was watching Pilate closely. -“But you have not said whether you accept the Emperor’s final -provision.” - -“Sir, I would be greatly honored and highly pleased to be the husband of -the granddaughter of the great Augustus.” - -Sejanus beamed. “Then, Pilate, you may consider yourself the Procurator -of Judaea.” - -“But....” - -The Prefect held up his hand to interrupt. “The Emperor will speak to -you about the necessity of your keeping your wife under firm authority. -But I would like to emphasize something more important, Commander, and -that is this: keep her happy, and keep her satisfied, in Judaea. I want -no reports coming to me that the Emperor’s stepdaughter is being kept -virtually a prisoner, that she is suffering banishment from Rome.” His -eyes flamed again, and he licked his sensuous lips. “Do you understand, -Pilate? Claudia is a modern woman. She’s accustomed to the ways of -Rome’s equestrians. Keep her contented, Pilate; do nothing to add to her -burden of living in a land that to her, no doubt, will be dull and even -loathsome. If sometimes she strays into indiscretions, overlook them. -Don’t attempt to make of her a Caesar’s wife.” His stern expression -relaxed into a grin. “Besides, I believe it’s too late for anyone to -accomplish that.” Then as quickly as it had come, the levity was gone. -“But I interrupted you. You were going to ask something?” - -“Yes.” Pilate stared thoughtfully at his hands. “I was wondering, sir, -if Claudia has been apprised of the Emperor’s and your wishes. What has -she to say about all this?” - -“Say?” Sejanus smiled and rubbed his palms together. “My dear -Procurator, Claudia has nothing to say in matters such as this. Tiberius -speaks for his stepdaughter. And _I_ speak for Tiberius.” - - - - - 5 - - -The next morning one of the fastest triremes of the Roman navy carried -the Prefect Sejanus and Pontius Pilate from the harbor below the -Prefect’s villa straight southward across the gulf toward the island of -Capri. - -When Sejanus finished discussing certain other matters of business with -the Emperor, he had his aide summon Pilate into the Imperial chamber. -The cohort commander was nervous as he entered the great hall. It was -his first sight of Tiberius since the Emperor had allowed his crafty -minister to bring all nine of the Praetorian Guard’s cohorts into the -camp near the Viminal Gate, from which, on a moment’s notice, they could -sally forth to enforce the Prefect’s will, even to giving orders to the -Senate itself. A year ago the Emperor, melancholy, embittered, tired of -rule, had left Rome and journeyed southward to Capri to seek on that -island the privacy he had long craved. Since then, with the exception of -the wily Prefect and a few others—the Emperor’s young girls and, -according to Roman gossip, his powdered, painted, and perfumed young -boys and the growing circle of poets and philosophers—Tiberius Claudius -Nero Caesar had seen few visitors. Gradually he had relinquished affairs -of state to the scheming Prefect Sejanus. - -But now Pilate saw confronting him a man vastly changed from the tall, -powerful, and thoroughly able general he had known earlier. The Emperor -was noticeably stooped; his once broad forehead and now almost naked -pate seemed to have shriveled into a narrowing expanse of wrinkled -skull. Acne had inflamed and pocked his face, and the skin lay in folds -around the stem of his neck like that of a vulture’s. - -Tiberius greeted Pilate perfunctorily. “The Prefect tells me you’re -petitioning us for appointment to the post of Procurator in Judaea. Is -that true?” - -“Sire, if it is the will of the Emperor that I serve in that capacity, I -shall be happy to undertake the assignment and serve the Emperor and the -Empire to the full extent of my ability.” - -“That I would expect and demand,” Tiberius harshly replied. “It is a -difficult post. The Jews are a stubborn and intractable people. They are -fanatically religious, and they resent bitterly and will oppose even to -the sacrifice of their lives all actions they consider offensive to -their strange one-god religion. Their priests are diabolically clever, -and they are determined to rule the people in accordance with the -ancient religious laws and traditions of the land.” His cold eyes -fastened upon the cohort commander’s countenance. “Pilate, I shall -expect you to govern in that province. Foremost among your functions of -office, in addition to maintaining at all times Roman law and order, -will be the levying and collecting of ample taxes. That, in itself, will -be a burdensome duty. In addition, I charge you to see to it that Rome -is not embroiled in any great difficulty with these Jews. I warn you, it -will be difficult. Do you think you are equal to such a task?” - -“I am bold enough, Sire, to think so. Certainly I shall do everything -within my power to demonstrate to the Emperor and his Prefect that I -am.” - -“We shall see.” The Emperor’s cold eyes bored into those of the officer -standing before him. Suddenly his grimness relaxed into a thin smile. -“Sejanus tells me also that you have ambitions to marry my stepdaughter -Claudia.” - -“To marry your stepdaughter, Sire, should it be the Emperor’s will, -would bestow on me the highest honor and afford me the greatest -happiness.” - -“Evidently he knows little about her,” Tiberius observed wryly to -Sejanus, “else he would not consider himself so fortunate.” But quickly -his eyes were on Pilate again, and the malevolent smile was gone. “I -grant my permission, Pilate. The dowry will be arranged, and I assure -you it will be adequate. Sejanus will settle the details. Unfortunately -I shall not be able to attend the festivities of the wedding.” Now he -twisted his head to face the Prefect. “If there is nothing further, -Sejanus?” He did not wait for an answer but arose. The Prefect and -Pontius Pilate, bowing, were backing toward the doorway when Tiberius -suddenly stopped them. “Wait. I wish to tell Pilate a story. - -“Once a traveler stopped to aid a man lying wounded beside the road,” he -began. “He started to brush away the flies clustered about the wound, -when the injured man spoke out. ‘No, don’t drive away the flies,’ he -said. ‘They have fed on me until now they are satisfied and no longer -hurt me. But if you brush these off, then other, more hungry ones will -come and feed on me until I am sucked dry of blood.’” A mirthless smile -crinkled the corners of his mouth. “Pilate, I want no new thirsty fly -settling after Valerius Gratus upon the Jews in Judaea. Nevertheless, -from them I must be sent a sufficiency of blood. Do you understand?” - -Pilate swallowed. “Sire, I understand.” He licked his heavy red lips. - -As they were at the door, Tiberius raised his hand to stop them again. A -sly grin, leering and sadistic, spread across his face. “Take Claudia -with you to Judaea, Procurator. And rule her, man! Rule her!” - - - - - 6 - - -Languidly the Princess Herodias of the Maccabean branch of the Herod -dynasty lay back in the warm, scented water so that only her head, -framed in black hair held dry by a finely woven silk net, was exposed. - -“More hot water, Neaera,” she commanded. “But be careful. I don’t want -to look cooked for the Tetrarch.” - -Quickly the slave maid turned the tap, and steaming water gushed from -the ornate eagle’s-head faucet. - -“That’s enough!” shouted Herodias after a minute. “By the gods, shut it -off!” She sat upright in the tiled tub, and the water ran down from her -neck and shoulders, leaving little islands of suds clinging to her -glistening white body. “Now hand me the mirror.” - -She extended a dripping arm and accepted the polished bronze. For a long -moment she studied her image. “Neaera, tell me truthfully, am I showing -my age too dreadfully?” - -“But, Mistress, you are not old,” the maid protested. - -“You’re a flatterer, Neaera. Salome, remember, is fourteen.” - -“But you were married very young, Mistress.” - -“And I was married a long time ago, too.” She peered again into the -mirror. “Look. Already I can see tiny crow’s-foot lines around my eyes.” - -“But unguents and a little eye shadowing....” - -“More flattery.” Herodias shook a wet finger at the young woman’s nose. -“But I love it; so don’t ever stop. But now”—she grasped the sides of -the tub—“help me out. I mustn’t lie in this hot water any longer, or -I’ll be as pink as a roast by the time the Tetrarch comes.” She grasped -the maid’s arm to steady herself as she stepped from the tub to the -tufted mat, and Neaera began to rub her down with a heavy towel. When -the slave maid had finished drying her, Herodias turned to face the -full-length minor, her body flushed and glowing from the brisk robbing. -Palms on hips, she studied her own straight, still lithe frame. “Really, -Neaera,” she asked, “how do I look?” With fingers spread she caressed -the gently rounded smooth plane of her stomach and then lifted cupped -palms to her firm, finely shaped breasts. “I haven’t lost my figure too -badly, have I?” - -“You haven’t lost it at all, Mistress,” the maid assured her, as she -picked up a filmy undergarment from the bench. “It’s still youthful and -still beautiful.” Herodias braced herself as the girl bent low to assist -her into the black silk garment. Neaera leaned back and studied the -older woman again. “You have the figure of a young woman, indeed, -Mistress,” she said, “though fully matured and....” - -“And what, Neaera? What were you going to say?” - -“Well, Mistress, a figure to me more beautiful because of maturity, and -more interesting.” - -“And more alluring, more seductive, maybe?” Her smile was lightly -wanton. “To the Tetrarch, perhaps? But the Herods, Neaera, and old -Tiberius, too, I hear, like their women very young.” Her expression -sobered. “I’m almost afraid he’ll be having eyes for Salome rather than -for me. The child has matured remarkably, you know, in the last year.” - -“I should think, though, Mistress, that the Tetrarch....” - -A sharp knocking on the door interrupted her. - -“By the gods, Neaera, it must be the Tetrarch, and I’m not ready. Tell -Strabo to seat him in the peristylium and pour him wine and say that I -shall be ready soon.” - -But the visitor was not the Tetrarch of Galilee. Strabo announced that -the Emperor’s stepdaughter was in the atrium. - -“Claudia! How wonderful! Show her into the solarium, and tell her I’ll -join her in a minute. Neaera, hurry and fetch me my robe. We can sit and -talk while you do my hair.” - -“I can’t stay for more than a few minutes,” the Emperor’s stepdaughter -announced when, a moment later, Herodias greeted her in the solarium. -“Longinus is going to take me out to the chariot races, and he may be -waiting for me right now. But I wanted to tell you, Herodias....” She -paused, her expression suddenly questioning. “Bona Dea, I’ll bet that -the Tetrarch is taking you there, too, and I’ve caught you in the middle -of getting dressed.” - -“Yes, you’re right, but there’s no hurry, Claudia. I can finish quickly. -And if I’m not ready when he comes, he can wait.” - -“So,” Claudia laughed, “you already have the Tetrarch so entranced that -he will wait patiently while you dress.” - -“Not patiently, perhaps, but he’ll wait ... without protesting.” - -“Then it won’t be long before you’ll be marrying him and leaving for -Palestine.” She said it teasingly, but immediately her expression -changed to reveal concern. “But, Herodias, when you do, what will his -present wife say; how will she take it? And his subjects in Galilee? -Doesn’t the Jewish religion forbid a man’s having more than one living -wife?” - -“The daughter of King Aretas will resent his bringing another wife to -Tiberias, no doubt”—Herodias smiled coyly—“if I do marry him. And as for -the religion of the Jews, well, my dear, you must know that neither -Antipas nor I follow its tenets too closely.” - -“Of course. But I wasn’t thinking of you or the Tetrarch as much as I -was of how his present wife would react. And the people of Galilee, too, -how will they feel about his having two living wives, one of whom is his -niece. Won’t it offend them?” - -“Yes, if we marry, it will offend a great many of them. But my -grandfather, old King Herod, father of Philip and Antipas, had ten -wives, remember, nine of them at the same time. The Jews didn’t like -that, but what could they do? No, we aren’t too concerned about what the -Jews will think. But Aretas’ daughter probably will try to cause -trouble. Not because Antipas will be having a new bedfellow, but because -she won’t any longer be Tetrarchess. Being replaced will make her -furious. She cares not a fig for the Tetrarch’s bedding with other -women; she even gave him a harem of Arabian women, Antipas told me.” She -paused, smiling. “Claudia, you remember that black-haired woman at the -banquet the other night, the one called Mary of Magdala?” Claudia -nodded. “Well, Antipas told me that his wife not only knew that Mary was -coming with him to Rome but actually suggested that he bring her. He -said his wife and Mary were good friends even though the Tetrarchess -knew quite well what the relationship was between him and Mary.” - -“Maybe the Tetrarchess sent this Mary with Antipas to keep his eyes from -straying to other women, like you, for example.” - -“Keeping his eyes from straying would be an impossible task.” - -“Do you think Mary is jealous of you now?” - -“That woman!” Herodias tossed her head. “Of course not. Nor am I jealous -of her. I really don’t care if he spends an occasional night in her bed. -All I want is to be Tetrarchess. If he marries me, I shall insist, -though, that he divorce that Arabian woman. No, our concern, -Claudia”—she lowered her voice and glanced cautiously around the room, -but Neaera had left the solarium—“is not what the Jews in Galilee, or -his present wife, or this woman from Magdala will think, but rather what -the Prefect himself will think. Sejanus could cause us much trouble. But -now everything seems to be all right. Antipas assures me that we needn’t -worry about it any longer. He says that he and Sejanus have reached an -understanding.” - -“And I have a good idea of what that understanding is based upon,” -Claudia said. “But what about your husband, Herodias? What will Philip -think?” - -“Philip! Hah!” She sneered. “What Philip thinks is of no concern. I’ve -never really cared for him anyway. It’s a little hard to feel romantic -toward a man who’s your half uncle, you know.” - -“But Antipas, too, is your half uncle, isn’t he? And he’s Philip’s half -brother as well. Hmm.” She smiled mischievously. “That makes him both -Salome’s half uncle and half great-uncle, doesn’t it? That is, if -Philip’s her father.” - -“Well, yes,” Herodias admitted. “I suppose he’s her father. Anyway, he -thinks so. But he’s also an old man, a generation older than I.” She -said it with evident sarcasm. “Antipas is old too, of course, but -remember, my dear, he’s the Tetrarch of Galilee, while Philip is only a -tiresome, fast aging, disowned son of a dead king, dependent for his -very existence on the favor of a crotchety Emperor and a conniving -Prefect. Antipas is old and fat, Claudia, but he has power and an -opulence far in excess of Philip’s, and a title, too. And some day, -perhaps not too far away, with my pushing him, who knows, he may be a -king like his father was.” She shrugged. “As for romance, the world’s -filled with younger men.” - -Claudia studied the face of her Idumaean friend. “Herodias, you worship -power, don’t you?” - -“Why shouldn’t I?” Herodias replied tartly. “Power and wealth, you -forget, are rightfully mine. I am the granddaughter of Mariamne, King -Herod’s royal wife, daughter of the Maccabeans, while Philip’s mother -was only a high priest’s daughter and the mother of Antipas was a -Samaritan woman. I am descended from the true royalty in Israel.” Her -irritation faded as quickly as it had come. “You say I worship power. -What else, pray, is there for one to worship? Your pale, anemic Roman -gods? Bah! You don’t worship them yourself. Why then should I? I’m not -even a Roman. Silly superstition, your Roman gods, and well you know it, -Claudia. And the gods of the Greeks are no better. Nor the Egyptians. If -I had to embrace the superstition of any religion I would be inclined to -worship the Yahweh of the Jews. He’s the only god who makes any sense at -all to me, but even he is too fire-breathing and vindictive for my -liking. But I’m not a Jew, Claudia, even though I am descended on one -side from the royal Maccabeans. I’m a Herod, and the Herods are -Idumaeans. The Jews call them pagans, and by the Jews’ standards, pagans -we are.” For a moment she was thoughtful, and Claudia said nothing to -break the silence. “But I suppose you’re right, Claudia,” she said at -last. “If I have any god at all, he’s the two-headed god of power and -money. And if the Tetrarch were your Longinus, well, my god would have a -third head, pleasure. I envy you, Claudia! By the way,” she added, as -she poured wine for her guest and herself, “may I be so bold, my dear, -as to inquire how things between you and the centurion stand just now?” - -“That’s why I came to see you, Herodias. I wanted to thank you for a -most enjoyable evening too, but mainly I wanted to tell you that -Longinus and I have—how did you express it—reached an understanding.” - -“Wonderful!” Herodias beamed. “Are you going to marry him, Claudia, or -are you...?” She hesitated, grinning. - -“Am I going to marry him, or will we just continue as we are without the -formality of marriage vows?” She laughed. “Yes, I’m planning to marry -him. But this is what I wanted to tell you, Herodias. I’m going out with -him to Palestine. He’s being sent there on some sort of special mission -by the Prefect Sejanus.” - -“By all the gods, that is wonderful, Claudia! Then we’ll be able to see -each other out there. Where will you be stationed? At Caesarea? -Jerusalem? Maybe even Tiberias?” - -“He hasn’t received his detailed orders yet. But I’ll be able to visit -you at the palace anyway. I hear it’s a magnificent place.” - -“It must be. I’m anxious to see it myself; you know, I haven’t been near -the place since it was finished. And it will be wonderful to have you -and Longinus to visit us.” But suddenly her expression sobered. -“Claudia, has the Emperor given his permission for you to marry -Longinus? And does the Prefect approve?” - -“Neither of them knows about it yet. But I’m sure they’ll both be glad -to see me married and away from Rome. Longinus is going to speak to -Sejanus about us.” - -They heard voices in the atrium. Claudia stood up quickly. “That must be -the Tetrarch. By Bona Dea, I didn’t realize I was staying this long; I -must be going. Longinus will be waiting for me. Herodias, surely we’ll -see one another again before either of us sails for Palestine?” - -“Yes, we must. And when we do, we’ll both know more about our plans.” - -Neaera entered. “Has the Tetrarch come?” Herodias asked. - -“No, Mistress, it’s a soldier sent by the Prefect. He seeks the Lady -Claudia. He awaits her in the atrium.” - -The soldier, one of the Praetorian Guardsmen, announced that the Prefect -Sejanus was at that moment waiting for Claudia in her own apartment at -the Imperial Palace. He added that he hoped they might start -immediately; he feared the Prefect might be getting impatient. - -But when they reached her house and she entered the atrium to greet the -Prefect of the Praetorian Guard, Sejanus bowed low and smiled -reassuringly. “I come from an audience with your beloved stepfather, the -Emperor, at Capri,” he said. “He commanded me to bear to you his esteem -and fatherly love and to offer his congratulations upon the most -excellent plans he has projected—with my warm approval, let me hasten to -assure you—for your forthcoming marriage.” - -“For my marriage? But, Prefect Sejanus....” Claudia paused, striving to -maintain outward composure. - -“I know it comes as quite a surprise to you. But the arrangements have -been completed, and I’ve come here to tell you immediately on my return -from Capri. You and your future husband are the only ones who are being -informed now of the Emperor’s plans. But you will be married soon, even -before you and your husband leave for his tour of duty in Palestine.” - -“In Palestine!” - -How could the Emperor have known about Longinus and me? The Prefect? Of -course, that’s how. Sejanus knew that Longinus was with me at the -banquet Antipas gave for Herodias; he knew that Longinus was at my house -later that evening when he sent Cornelius out to fetch him, or he -learned of it when they came afterward to his palace. Old Sejanus must -not be so bad, after all. Nor is the Emperor, either. Perhaps I have -been too severe in judging them. Perhaps they both have their good -moments, their generous impulses.... - -“Yes, to Palestine.” The Prefect was speaking. “He has promised your -hand in marriage to a Roman army officer who, if he follows my orders -implicitly and remains completely loyal to me, may shortly be not only a -man of wealth but also a leader of influence in the affairs of the -Empire.” - -Claudia was about to express her thanks to the Emperor and his most -excellent Prefect and to ask when the wedding would be held. But some -instinctive vein of caution restrained her from mentioning Longinus’ -name. Now the Prefect was speaking again. - -“Needless to say, I join the Emperor in praying the gods that you and -the Procurator Pontius Pilate lead long lives and find great happiness -with each other.” - -“The Procurator Pontius Pilate! Then....” But again caution stopped her -just in time. - -Sejanus smiled. “You are surprised, my dear Claudia? And whom did you -think the Emperor had chosen to be your husband?” - -“But I ... I don’t even know this Pontius Pilate.” Claudia ignored the -Prefect’s question. “He is to be Procurator in Palestine, succeeding -Valerius Gratus?” - -“Procurator of Judaea, with headquarters at Caesarea, yes.” His grin was -sardonically beguiling. “But what were you about to say?” - -“I was going to observe that then I would be spending the rest of my -life away from Rome, living in a distant provincial army post,” she -lied, not too convincingly, she suspected. - -But Sejanus did not pursue his questioning. “Not if the Procurator -conducts the affairs of his post in the manner that I have outlined to -him.” - -“Has he been informed of the Emperor’s plans for ... for us?” - -“Yes. And he is tremendously happy and excited, as what man wouldn’t be, -my dear Claudia?” His lips flattened bloodless across his teeth, and his -little eyes flamed. “Even I, with my youth long fled, envy him!” - - - - - 7 - - -Claudia, striving to be courteously casual, walked with the Prefect to -the doorway where two Praetorian Guardsmen awaited him. As they went out -she closed the pivoted double doors behind them, but after a moment she -cautiously drew one back and peered through the narrow slit. - -The Prefect’s bearers and the guards who had remained outside were -standing stiffly at attention, the bearers at the sedan-chair handles; -one of the guards stepped forward quickly to open the door. Sejanus -paused an instant and spoke to the man; then he stepped into the chair -and, as the guard closed the door, pulled together the shielding -curtains. The guard raised his hand, and the bearers moved off smartly. - -Claudia saw, however, that the bodyguard did not march off with the -Prefect’s procession; instead, he peered about furtively, cast a hurried -glance toward her doorway, and then merged into the traffic pushing -along the narrow, cobbled way. Momentarily she lost him but in the next -instant discovered him idling in front of a shop diagonally across from -her entrance. But not for long did he study the wares of the merchant; -she saw that he had faced about and was staring intently at her own -doorway. - -“I thought so,” she observed to Tullia, who had retreated into the -shadowed narrow corridor as Sejanus was leaving. “The Prefect left one -of his bodyguards to watch the house. He either wishes to know where -I’ll be going or who will be coming here, perhaps both. I don’t know -what he is scheming, Tullia”—the maid had come forward and secured the -doors—“but whatever it is, I don’t like it. Longinus may endanger -himself by coming. We must warn him. But how, Tullia? He is likely to be -arriving any moment; he must have been delayed at Castra Praetoria, or -he would have been here already.” - -Quickly she told the maid the startling news the Prefect had brought. - -“Anyone who leaves this house through these doors, Mistress, then is -sure to be followed. But I could go out through the servant’s entrance -on some contrived mission and perhaps be able to warn him.” - -“Good, Tullia. You can be taking something to Senator Piso’s house and -carry a message to Longinus. Talk with him if he is there and tell him -what has happened, but say that I’ll arrange to meet him later, perhaps -at the house of Herodias.” - -“Or maybe, Mistress, at the shop of Stephanos.” - -“Yes. Maybe the goldsmith’s would be better. But if the Prefect’s men -should follow and ask you questions, Tullia, what will you say?” - -“I could be bearing a small gift to Philo, Senator Piso’s old Greek -slave who tutored his children. He’s quite ill and....” - -“Wonderful! Tullia, you are indeed my treasure. Take the old man a jar -of that honey from Samos; he would like that. And some wheat cakes and a -bottle of the Falernian.” She was silent a moment, thoughtful. “By the -Bountiful Mother! Tullia, I’ll help you get away by leading that soldier -myself on a false chase. Fetch me my cloak and scarf. I’ll pretend to be -disguising myself in order to slip away. Then he’ll follow me. Now find -the things to take to old Philo, and get yourself ready. And do hurry.” - -In a few minutes Tullia returned with the cloak and scarf. “The basket -of food is ready,” she said. She helped her mistress put on the cloak -and tie the scarf so that much of her face was concealed. “Leave the -door ajar as I go out,” Claudia instructed her, “and when you see the -soldier following me, close the door and slip away yourself through the -servants’ entrance. And return the same way, as quickly as you can.” - -“Yes, Mistress.” - -“And, Tullia, say to Longinus that I instructed you to tell him that -what has happened changes nothing, that as far as I am concerned -everything is just as it was with him and me. But say as little as you -can to anyone else, Tullia, and nothing concerning the Prefect’s visit.” - -Claudia walked to the entrance doors and turned to face her maid again. -“You go out and look around furtively as though you were seeing that the -way was clear for me. That will likely warn the guardsman that something -is afoot, that we suspect someone may be watching the house. Then I’ll -go out, and because I will not have my bearers summoned, he’ll surmise -that I am trying to leave unnoticed.” - -Then she puckered her rouged lips into a thoughtful bud. “But why is old -Sejanus having us watched? Did he think that I would slip out to tell -Longinus? Does he want me to tell the centurion and perhaps deliberately -prejudice him against Pilate?” She shook her head slowly. “But how can -he know about Longinus and me?” - -“Perhaps, Mistress, he only suspects,” Tullia answered. “It may be that -he is trying to find out just what your relationship is.” - -“Maybe so. But little he’ll discover now, by the gods!” She opened the -door and peered out. “Now.” - -Tullia slipped through the doorway, looked up and down the narrow -street, then stepped back into the atrium. - -“Now I’ll go,” Claudia said. “Be careful, Tullia. And do guard your -tongue.” Outside she readjusted her scarf and pulled her cloak more -closely about her. Then she stepped into the cobble-stoned way and -walked rapidly along it. - -Tullia, peeping through the slit in the doorway, saw the Prefect’s man -emerge from the shadows of a shop entrance and move off quickly to -follow her. When the two had disappeared around the turn, Tullia closed -the doors and hurriedly recrossed the atrium. A moment later she slipped -out through the servants’ entrance. A freshly starched napkin covered -the food in the basket she carried. - - - - - 8 - - -An unexpected assignment, fortunately, had delayed Longinus’ departure -from Castra Praetoria, and he had just reached home when Tullia arrived -at Senator Piso’s. Quickly she told him of the Prefect’s visit to her -mistress. - -He listened attentively, outwardly calm but inwardly with rage mounting -as her story progressed. “Go back to your mistress, Tullia,” he said, -when she finished, “and tell her that with me, too, nothing is changed. -But warn her to make no attempt, until I tell her, to communicate with -me. The Prefect is diabolically clever; he may suspect that we will try -to thwart his plans. I don’t understand just what he’s scheming; we must -be careful. But assure her that I will find some way of getting a -message to her.” - -“Centurion Longinus, if I may suggest, sir, should you send the message, -or bear it yourself, to the shop of Stephanos in the Vicus -Margaritarius....” - -“I know that shop, Tullia, and the goldsmith, too.” - -“Then, sir, from there I could take your message verbally to my -mistress. Stephanos is the son of my father’s brother. He can be -trusted, you may be assured, sir.” - -“That’s a good arrangement, Tullia. And should your mistress wish to -send me a message, you can leave it with the goldsmith. But do warn her -to be careful. The Prefect may be setting a trap for us.” - -The goldsmith Stephanos was, like his cousin Tullia, a Greek-speaking -Jew who had been reared in the Jewish colony in Rome. Although a young -man, he had already established a profitable business in the capital, -and his customers numbered many of the equestrian class, including -members of Senator Piso’s family. Consequently, Longinus, were he being -watched, could go to the goldsmith’s shop without arousing suspicion. - -Longinus discovered how fortunate they had been in taking such -precautions when, a week after Tullia’s visit to him, he was again -summoned to the palace of the Prefect. - -Sejanus gave little time to the formalities of greeting the Senator’s -son. “I am now prepared to hand you your orders, Centurion Longinus,” he -said. “But before I do so I must ask you if you have any reservations -whatsoever concerning this mission I propose to send you on.” The -Prefect’s cold little eyes were studying him, Longinus realized, and he -was determined that he would reveal neither fear nor surprise. - -“None, sir. I’m a soldier, and I await the Prefect’s orders.” - -But Sejanus was not satisfied. “When last I talked with you, you said -that you were hardly acquainted with Pontius Pilate, that you were in no -sense an intimate friend. But I ask you now, do you have any hostility -toward him?” He leaned forward, and his eyes bored into the centurion’s -bland countenance. “Has anything happened since then that would cause -you to change your feeling toward him?” - -“I know nothing that he has done, sir, that would cause me to feel -hostility toward him. Has he, sir?” - -The question seemed to surprise Sejanus. He leaned back against his -chair. “He has done nothing. But something has been done that may have -caused you to feel bitter toward him.” He was studying the centurion -intently. “Bitterness toward the Procurator would render you unfit for -the assignment I am proposing for you, just as close friendship for him -would do the same.” He smiled, changing his stern tone to one of -fatherly interest. “Frankly, Longinus, I had expected to find you bitter -toward Pilate, the Emperor, and me.” - -“But why, sir, should _I_ be bitter?” - -“I had thought that perhaps you would be jealous of him, resent his....” - -“Jealous of Pilate?” Boldly Longinus ventured to interrupt. “But why, -sir?” - -“Pilate is going to marry the Emperor’s stepdaughter and take her out to -Judaea when he goes there to begin his duties as Procurator. I had -thought that you yourself might be planning to marry Claudia.” - -“_I_, sir?” Longinus affected sudden surprise. “May I respectfully ask -why you thought that?” - -“You have been seeing her since your return from Germania. She -accompanied you to the banquet Antipas gave for his brother’s wife.” -Sejanus shrugged. “That suggested it to me.” His lips thinned into a -feline grin. “Since I made known to her the Emperor’s plans I have had -you both watched; if you have met or communicated with one another, it -has escaped my men’s sharp eyes.” His piggish eyes brightened. “I want -you to understand, Longinus, that I am not the protector of either -Claudia or Pilate. I am not the least concerned with their private lives -so long as what they do doesn’t harm me or the Empire. And let me -add”—his eyes were dancing now—“I’m not concerned with your private life -either. I am determined, however, that nothing be done to interfere with -our plans for Pilate and Claudia. But if after they are married and gone -out to Judaea, some evening in Caesarea or Jerusalem you should find -yourself in Pilate’s bed when Pilate is away, that will be no concern of -mine, nor shall I care one green fig’s worth.” Suddenly the lascivious -gleam was gone from his eyes, and his countenance was grave. He raised a -stern hand and leaned forward again. “But I’ll require of you a true and -unbiased report on Pontius Pilate, Longinus. If you think you may be -prejudiced against the man because he will have taken Claudia away from -you, then I charge you to tell me now and I shall give you some other -assignment.” - -“I assure you, sir, that I have no hostility toward him. But I do wonder -why Claudia is being required to marry him and be virtually exiled from -Rome.” - -Sejanus studied the senator’s son a long moment. “Longinus, I shall be -entirely frank with you, as I shall require you to be with me,” he -replied, lowering his voice, though there were no other ears to hear. -“The Emperor and I want Claudia exiled, though we would never employ so -harsh a word for her being sent away from Rome. Claudia’s the -granddaughter of Augustus, remember, and also—it’s generally believed, -at any rate—the granddaughter of Mark Antony and the Egyptian Cleopatra. -She’s in direct descent from strong-willed, able—and in their day -tremendously popular—forebears. Tiberius, on the other hand, is not. Nor -does he have any strong following. As you know, Longinus”—he paused, and -his small black eyes for an instant weighed the centurion’s -expression—“in everything but name, I am the Emperor.” - -“Indeed, sir, but were Rome to overthrow the Emperor, the gods forbid, -would the people enthrone a woman? Surely, sir, they would never....” - -“Of course not. It’s not likely, under any circumstances. But you don’t -understand, Longinus.” The Prefect’s grim countenance relaxed a bit, but -he kept his voice low as he sat back against his chair. “Claudia is no -longer married. While she was married to that fop Aemilius there was no -cause for concern. But now she’s divorced and in a position to marry -again.” He smiled, and the wanton flame lighted once more. “And -beautiful. Gods, what a figure!” He rolled his eyes. “If I were young -again, with her I could be Emperor of Rome!” He was silent a moment. -“But I am Emperor of Rome—in all but title.” Now Sejanus was suddenly -grave, and old, and the flame was only of an innate cunning. He leaned -toward the centurion. “Longinus, any man in Rome, any man, would be -happy to marry Claudia. She’s beautiful, rich, highly intelligent, and -the granddaughter of Rome’s greatest Emperor. Being that, she remains a -threat to us as long as she is in Rome. What if some strong, ambitious -general or senator, for example, should marry her and undertake to -displace Tiberius?” He sat back and gestured with outspread palms. -“Don’t you see, Centurion? And displacement of Tiberius—and me—would be -disastrous for your father, of course, and for you. You and I must work -together just as your father and I have been doing. So I shall look -forward not only to your frequent reports of a military and -administrative nature, particularly with respect to the collection of -revenue, but now that Claudia is going out there, to tidbits of -information concerning her and Pilate.” His sensual lips thinned across -his teeth. “Claudia must be kept away from Rome, Longinus, but she must -be kept happily away, too. So if you can help make her stay in Judaea -pleasant, if you can help Pilate keep her satisfied, or if you can keep -her satisfied,” he added with a leer, “you will be serving the Emperor -and me, your father, and yourself. And I don’t care _how_ you do it. Be -careful to avoid scandal, though, that might reach Rome.” He grinned -again. “I think you need have little fear of Pilate.” His lips were -twisted in an evil smile. “Now have I answered your question, Longinus? -Do I make myself entirely clear?” - -“You do, sir.” Longinus’ countenance was impassive, he hoped, but his -palm itched to be doubled into a fist that would smash the leer off the -Prefect’s face. - -“Then these are your orders. Three days hence the ‘Palmyra’ sails for -Palestine. Aboard will be a maniple of troops to relieve two centuries -of the Second Italian Cohort. You will command a century that will be -stationed at Caesarea under Sergius Paulus. Centurion Cornelius will -command the other. Also aboard will be Tetrarch Herod Antipas. You and -your century will go ashore at Caesarea, but Cornelius and his will -accompany Herod to Joppa. There they will land, and Cornelius will -escort the Tetrarch to Jerusalem. Ostensibly Herod will be going up to -the Temple to worship, but he will be bearing a message from me to old -Annas, the former high priest.” He paused but did not explain further. -“From Jerusalem,” he went on, “Cornelius will escort Herod to Tiberias, -where the century will be stationed, with a garrison post at Capernaum -supporting it. And now, to get back to you, Longinus, I have dispatched -orders to Sergius Paulus that although you will command a century, you -must be allowed leave any time you request it to undertake special -missions. I indicated to him that these missions would be concerned -primarily with the government’s interest in the operations of your -father’s factories in Phoenicia. This work understandably could take you -to the plants in Phoenicia and also to Tiberias, Jerusalem, and other -regions in Palestine. The cohort commander must never suspect, nor -anyone else, including Claudia, remember, that you are keeping sharp -eyes and ears on Pilate and Herod Antipas. I’m sending you ahead on the -‘Palmyra,’ Longinus, so that you will be in Caesarea when Pilate and -Claudia arrive there.” He studied the centurion. “Is everything -understood, Centurion?” - -“Yes, sir, I understand.” His forehead creased into small wrinkles. -“When you talked with me before, sir, you said that I would be expected -to keep watch on the activities of three persons, Pilate, Antipas, -and....” - -“Claudia, of course, was the third.” He twisted his vulture-like head to -scan the large chamber, a habit developed during long years of caution. -“Watch her, too. Know what she is doing, what she is thinking even, if -you can.” He lowered his voice. “Be careful, Centurion. She’s a clever -woman, with brains worthy of old Augustus. I am not concerned, as I -said, with her morals, or Pilate’s, or yours. But be careful.” His -little eyes fired again, and a wry grin twisted his face. “Don’t let -Pilate catch you in bed with her. Such carelessness might destroy your -effectiveness.” - -Sejanus stood up, a signal that his business with the centurion was -finished. Longinus arose quickly to stand at attention, concerned that -even yet he might reveal in the Prefect’s presence the revulsion -mounting within him. - -“Send me reports as often and as regularly as you have valuable -information to give, Longinus. Use great care to see that your messages -are well-sealed and not likely to go astray. Watch those three. Let -nothing of significance escape your notice, and let nothing be omitted -from your reports. Keep Claudia under surveillance, but don’t get so -occupied with her that you aren’t fully alive to everything that is -happening. Watch her, regardless of what else you two may be doing!” - - - - - 9 - - -Longinus led his century from its quarters at Castra Praetoria westward -through the Viminal Gate along the way that skirted the leveled-out -northern extremity of Esqueline Hill. - -At the point where this way joined Via Longa the procession entered the -cobblestoned street and moved westward and then straight southward. -Longinus glanced over his shoulder and had a glimpse, between shops that -crowded the lower level of Quirinal Hill, of his father’s great house -high on that elevation. But quickly he lost sight of it as his century -became virtually submerged in the dense traffic fighting its way slowly -along Via Longa. Fortunately, the legionaries were bearing only their -lightest armor; the heavier gear had been sent ahead and put aboard the -“Palmyra.” But even thus equipped, in the narrow, packed street, though -it was one of Rome’s important thoroughfares, they were finding it -increasingly difficult to maintain a steady march. - -As the century began to pass north of the crowded Subura, that motley -district of massed tenements, shops, taverns, and brothels already being -pointed out as the birthplace more than a century ago of the great -Julius Caesar, the press of the throng so increased that the soldiers -were almost forced to fight their way forward. But progress became -easier in the area below the Forum Augustus, and as the troops were -pushing past it toward the Forum Romanum, Longinus glanced toward the -summit of Palatine Hill crowned by the sprawling great Imperial Palace; -his eyes went immediately to the northeast wing and to the window in -Claudia’s bedroom through which he had heard, one recent morning, the -rising trumpet call from the post. - -Longinus had not seen the Emperor’s stepdaughter since the day the -Prefect had visited her, though they had exchanged messages left with -Stephanos the goldsmith at his shop in Vicus Margaritarius. Claudia’s -last message had assured him that she would contrive some plan for -seeing him immediately upon her arrival with Pilate at Caesarea; that -shouldn’t be too difficult. Tullia had relayed Claudia’s message to -Stephanos, and Longinus had received it verbally from the goldsmith. “We -will have the Great Sea between the Emperor and Sejanus and us,” she had -sent word to the centurion. “It will be much safer then; as for Pilate, -I am little concerned with what he thinks or does; in fact, he’ll do -nothing.” - -Before the Forum Romanum Longinus led his troops straight southward. At -the northwest end of Circus Maximus they veered westward and went along -the way leading across the Tiber on the ancient Pons Sublicius, -fashioned of great stones fitted together to span the swiftly flowing -muddy water. Near the bridge entrance the column turned left and -paralleled the stream to halt at the pier just below the Sublicius. -Quickly the legionaries went aboard the “Palmyra.” - -Longinus’ troops were the last to embark, and within an hour the -“Palmyra” began slowly to shove its stern out into the stream. When the -ship was safely away from the pier, the hortator gave a sharp command, -and the long oars, manned by galley slaves chained to their three-tiered -benches, rose and fell in perfect cadence, with the starboard oarsmen -pushing forward and those on the port side pulling hard, so that the -“Palmyra’s” bow came around; soon the vessel was moving steadily -downstream. - -Longinus and Cornelius, having stowed their gear, returned to the deck -to stand together on the port side near the stern. By now the vessel was -rounding the slight westward bend in the river and was passing the -Aventine Hill. Cornelius, watching the yellow waters churning in the -wake of the “Palmyra,” raised his eyes and pointed across the stern -toward the Imperial Palace, the western front of which they could see -jutting past the squared end of the Circus Maximus. The upper section of -the great palace was visible above the race course. “Longinus, I’m -surprised you’re leaving her in Rome. I thought that if you ever went -back to Palestine, you’d be taking Claudia with you.” - -Longinus wondered if by some chance Cornelius had learned of the -Emperor’s plans for his stepdaughter and was trying now gently to probe -further. “But the night you came to her house for me was the first time -I’d seen her after returning from Germania,” he protested, laughing. -“Wouldn’t that be a little fast? She’s the Emperor’s stepdaughter, you -know.” - -“Well, maybe I was imagining things.” Cornelius shrugged. “But she is a -beautiful woman.” - -“I agree, Cornelius. The Bountiful Mother was lavish with her gifts to -the Lady Claudia.” He turned to lean against the rail. “What _I’m_ -wondering, though, is why Herod didn’t marry Herodias and bring her -along.” - -“Maybe he has married her. But I suspect that whether he has or not, -he’ll be returning to Rome for her before many months. That is, after -he’s made peace with the Tetrarchess and old King Aretas, her father.” -He grinned. “I’d wager, too, that you’ll be coming back for Claudia.” - -Longinus laughed but made no comment. His friend, he reasoned, did not -know about Claudia and Pontius Pilate. Nor would he tell him yet. - -Now the “Palmyra” was moving swiftly, its cadenced oars rising and -falling rhythmically to propel the vessel much faster downstream than -the current unaided would have borne it. They had come opposite the -thousand-foot-long Emporium huddled on the Tiber’s eastern bank, its -wharves crawling with slaves moving great casks and bales of merchandise -into the warehouses or bringing them out to be loaded aboard ships -preparing to slip down the Tiber and into the Great Sea at Ostia. Black -Ethiopians and Nubians, their sweating bodies shining as though they had -been rubbed with olive oil and naked except for brightly colored -loincloths, straggled at their tasks. Blond warriors brought from -Germania as part of some Roman general’s triumph, their skins now burnt -to the color of old leather, and squat, swarthy men from Gaul and -Dalmatia, from Macedonia and the Greek islands, captives of Roman -legionaries ranging far from the Italian mainland, pulled and shoved to -the roared commands of the overseers and the not infrequent angry -uncoiling of long leather whips. - -“Did you ever realize, Longinus, what a comprehensive view you get of -Rome and the Empire from a ship going along the Tiber?” Cornelius nodded -toward the stern. “Look at those marble-crowned hills back there, -literally overrun with palaces, billions of sesterces spent in building -them, hundreds, thousands of lives used up, sacrificed, raising them one -above the other. The people in them, too, Longinus, and the -rottenness—smug hypocrisy, adherence to convention, infidelity, -unfairness, utter cruelty, depravity. Rome, great mistress of the world. -Hah!” He half turned and pointed toward the Emporium. “Those sweating -slaves over there would agree.” He gestured with opened hands. “Ride -down the Tiber and see Rome, glorious Mother Rome, from Viminal’s crown -to Emporium’s docks, eh?” - -“You’re right,” Longinus smiled. “And it’s only because the gods have -decreed for us a different fate that you and I are not over there -heaving crates, or chained here pulling oars.” He leaned over the rail -and studied the rhythmical rise and fall of the long, slim oars. “No -doubt there are among these slaves several whose intelligence, -education, and culture are considerably greater than the hortator’s, and -I’m sure.... Look!” - -Cornelius followed the direction of Longinus’ outstretched arm. One of -the oars had come up beneath a floating object and sent it spinning and -twisting in the churning muddy flood. Now another oar’s sharp blade -struck the object, ripping apart its once carefully folded wrapping; as -the oar cleared the surface, the wrapping unrolled, exposing the body of -a tiny infant, chalk-white in the yellow water. It spun giddily for a -moment, then sank. - -“By the gods!” Cornelius shouted. “It’s an exposed baby girl!” - -But now the small, lifeless body bobbed to the surface and for one -unruffled moment lay on its back, eyes wide-open and fixed, staring -upward unseeing toward the two centurions leaning over the ship’s rail. -In that same instant the oars descended, and the knife-sharp edge of one -near the stern sliced diagonally across the drowned infant; the oar -shivered with the unexpected added burden, but it bore the mangled small -corpse beneath the thick waters, and up through them rose a trickle of -dark crimson. - -“She wasn’t dead when she was thrown in,” Cornelius said, “and that -wasn’t long ago. Perhaps from one of the bridges back there, or maybe a -wharf. Or even a boat ahead.” His shoulders trembled in an involuntary -shudder. “Longinus, I could kill a man in battle without blinking, but I -couldn’t throw an infant into the Tiber. By the gods, how can any man do -it?” - -“Nevertheless, hundreds do it every year, Centurion. We were speaking of -those slaves over there on the Emporium’s docks and these galley slaves -rowing us. And this drowned baby, and countless others who simply lost -when the gods rolled the dice. The fickle gods, my friend, the -unfeeling, stonehearted gods.” - -“Don’t blame the gods, Longinus. Blame rather Rome’s mounting vanity and -greed, her selfishness, cruelty.” - -“You know I’m not blaming the gods, Cornelius; I have no more faith than -you have even in their existence. They are nothing but pale nobodies, -fabrications in which not even intelligent children believe.” - -“Fabrications, yes. Our gods are inventions, but they serve a purpose -and are necessary.” - -“Necessary?” The centurion’s face had twisted into a heavy scowl. “Why, -Cornelius?” - -“Because they fill a place, supply a need, Longinus. It’s the nature of -man to look to some higher power, isn’t it, some greater intelligence? -Else why would one invent these gods; why would primitive peoples carve -them from wood and stone; why would we and the Greeks and the Egyptians -raise great temples to them?” - -“Do you contend then that people worship these carved sticks and stones -as symbols of some higher intelligence and power rather than the carved -objects themselves, even primitive peoples? Is that what you’re saying?” - -“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Some—many, in fact—have become -confused, of course, and in seeking to worship this mysterious divinity -they go through a form or ceremony of worshiping the symbol. But what -I’m trying to say, Centurion, is that it is the nature of mankind to -look to something higher, something more intelligent, more powerful, -better, yes, than man himself, better even than such an exemplary man as -our beloved”—now his tone was sarcastic—“Emperor, or his most worthy -Prefect. And if man seeks such a being to worship—and all men, mind you, -even savages, even those wild tree worshipers in Britannia do it—doesn’t -it stand to reason that there should be such a being?” - -The “Palmyra” had entered the smooth bending of the Tiber and was moving -rapidly toward the river’s nearest approach to Janiculum Hill, Rome’s -Jewish quarter on the west bank of the stream. Longinus pointed to the -steep rise of the hill and the plane before it cluttered with the -densely massed homes of thousands of Jews, many of them born in the -capital, others newly settled there. “It seems to me, Centurion, that -you’ve become an adherent of the Jewish one-god religion.” - -His words amused Cornelius. “Other Romans at our post in Galilee have -charged me with the same thing. It came about, I suppose, from my -helping the Jews at Capernaum build their new synagogue.” - -“Then surely you must be a member of their fellowship or synagogue ... -whatever they call it?” - -“No, I’m no convert to the Jews’ religion, Centurion. I don’t belong to -the synagogue. I helped them, I told myself, in order to promote good -relations between the Jews in Galilee and the members of our small Roman -post. But maybe I had other reasons, too. There are many things about -their one-god religion that seem sensible and right to me. But there are -also practices among the Jews that I don’t approve of at all, practices -that seem cruel and senseless. Their system of sacrifices, for instance. -I can see no act of proper worship in slitting the throats of -innumerable sheep and cattle to appease an angry god....” - -“I agree. But we do the same thing. Doesn’t the Emperor dedicate the -games by slitting the throats of oxen?” - -“Exactly. But what is the good of such worship or ceremony or whatever -you may choose to call it? If there is a god to whom the sacrifice is -being made, what good does it do him, what pleasure could he possibly -receive from it?” - -“I see nothing to any of it, Cornelius. Roman, Greek, Egyptian, Jewish, -forest worship in Britannia, whatever the system is; it’s all -superstition, delusion....” - -“I grant you, maybe it is. But, Longinus, don’t you feel deep down -inside yourself that there must be some intelligence, some power, far -above man’s very limited intelligence and power, that created the earth -and the heavens and controls them? Else how did they get here in the -first place?” - -“I don’t know, Cornelius. You’ve gone ahead of me, my friend. I never -gave much thought to matters like this.” The lines of his forehead -wrinkled into a frown. “But even if you _should_ feel that way, how -could you ever _know_? Have you seen a god, Centurion? Have you ever -felt one or heard one speak?” - -“I’ve never seen one, Longinus. But I think I have felt and perhaps -heard one. There have been times when I was confident that I was -communicating with one.” Cornelius watched the spume thrown up by the -flashing oars as they cut into the muddy waters. He turned back to face -Longinus. “That’s the difficulty, you know, communication. How can one -get a grip upon a god—the god, if there be but one, and the way I see it -that is the only sensible answer—like those slaves down there grip the -oar handles? How can one hear a god, see him, taste him? Obviously, one -cannot, for this god, whether there be one or many, must be different -from man; he must be a spiritual being rather than a physical one. But -if he is a spirit, how can we of the physical world communicate with him -and he with us? There, my friend, is the problem.” - -Longinus shook his head. “You’ve got me, Cornelius. I cannot imagine a -spirit, a being without a body, a something that is nothing.” - -“Many persons can’t, Centurion. And that’s the main difficulty in -accepting the Jews’ Yahweh, their one god. He is a spirit, they say, -without physical form or substance. They believe in him, but how do they -know him, how do they learn what he’s like? In a word, if he does exist, -how can he be made comprehensible to man?” - -Longinus smiled indulgently. “But you say you think you have felt one -and maybe heard one. Why?” - -“I don’t know if I can explain. Maybe it goes back to the fact that my -first lessons were taught me by a Greek slave. He was purchased by my -father from a lot brought to Rome after one of those early rebellions. -This man was one of the wisest I have ever known. I shall never forget -his teaching concerning the gods. When we would speak lightly of our -Roman gods, old Pheidias would scold us. ‘Don’t speak disparagingly of -the gods,’ he would say, even though he himself did not believe in them. -I can still remember his words. ‘The gods,’ he said, ‘are symbols of -man’s efforts to attain a higher life, a more noble plane of living. The -good gods are the symbols of the good attributes in man; evil gods -symbolize the base passions. Therefore, hold communion with the good -gods, and seek to avoid contact with the evil ones.’” - -“But how does that teaching explain what you feel?” - -“Wait,” Cornelius smiled, then continued. “Sometimes Pheidias would -confide in us and talk in more intimate terms of his own philosophy. At -such times he would tell us that his own gods were merged into one -omnipotent and omniscient good god, a spirit without a body, everywhere -present. This one god was a synthesis of the good, the true, and the -beautiful. And though he could not be felt, as I feel this rail -here”—Cornelius ran his hand along the ship’s rail—“and though he was -not to be seen or heard as one sees or hears another person, he was -nevertheless even more real. ‘For the only things that are real,’ my -tutor would say, ‘are the intangible things, and the only imperishable -things are those that have no physical being. Truth, for example. Truth -has no body. Who can hold truth in his hand? And yet truth is eternal, -unchangeable, indestructible. And love? Who can destroy love; who can -defeat it? Yet can you put love in a basket and carry it from the shop? -And who can measure a modius of love or weigh out twelve unciae?’” -Calmly he regarded Longinus. “And I ask you, my friend, who can? What, -after all, is more indestructible, unchangeable, immortal than the -intangible?” - -The “Palmyra” was moving around the river’s bend now and gaining speed -as it came into the straight stretch at a point even with the -right-angled turning of the city’s south wall. “But forgive me, -Longinus,” Cornelius said lightly. “I hadn’t meant to be giving you a -lecture on the nature of the gods or the one god.” - -“It has been entertaining and enlightening, my friend. And it has -convinced me that you do hold with this one-god idea. Those Jews at -Capernaum, cultivating the plant that came up from the seeds that old -tutor sowed in your childhood, have brought it along to blooming.” He -laughed and tapped the rail with the palm of his hand. “Well, perhaps -it’s an advance—from the Roman gods to the Jews’ one god—in -superstition.” But then the patronizing smile was gone, and he was -serious. “I don’t know, Cornelius. This one-god scheme does have its -merits, I can see. I would like to believe, and I wish I could, that -such an all-powerful, all-wise, all-good being rules the universe. -But”—he paused, and a heavy frown darkened his countenance—“Cornelius,” -he began again, “I keep thinking of those slaves back there on the -Emporium docks, countless slaves all over Rome and throughout the -Empire, beaten, maimed, killed at the whims of their masters, yes, and -that baby thrown into the Tiber, numberless unwanted babies exposed to -die—drowned, thrown to the beasts, bashed against walls—and yet you say -that one good god rules, one all-powerful and all-knowing god, one -_good_ god.” He thrust forth a quivering, challenging forefinger almost -under his friend’s nose. “Then tell me, Cornelius, why does your good -one god send all this ignorance, this stupidity, this cruelty, this -despicable wickedness on the world? Tell me why; give me one logical, -sensible reason, and I’ll fall down at the invisible and intangible feet -of your great one god and worship him in utter subjection.” - -“I can’t tell you, Longinus. That very question has troubled me, too. I -have wondered, and I’ve tried to explain it for myself. I don’t know how -old Pheidias explained it, or even if he did. I don’t recall our ever -challenging him on that point. But it may be that this one god—if there -be one, mind you—does not ordain all the things that happen in the -world. It may be that he is even sorrowful, too, because babies are -thrown into the Tiber, because men are cruel and heartless toward other -men....” - -“Then if he is all-powerful, Cornelius, why does he permit it? You say -he doesn’t will it. Then why does he allow it?” - -Cornelius looked across the deck to the shore line on the starboard side -and for a long moment silently considered his friend’s question. “I -cannot say, Centurion; it’s a mystery to me. Could it be, though, that -the answer, if there be any answer, lies in this god’s determination to -give man his freedom? Could it be that even though he is hurt when man -abuses the freedom given him, he feels that his children must be free, -nevertheless, to work out their destinies? Maybe some such reasoning -might explain it. I don’t know.” He shook his head sadly. “What do you -think?” - -“I disagree, Cornelius. You say that this one god would not order an -infant thrown into the river. I agree, but that is not enough. A good -god would not permit it.” His grim expression relaxed, but he was still -serious. “No, when one sees the condition in which countless men live, -the utter unfairness of things, one cannot logically believe in the -existence of such a god as you have described. Indeed, it is more -logical to believe in our Roman gods than in the god of your old tutor -or the Yahweh of the Jews, in our good ones contending with the evil -ones”—he shrugged—“with the evil ones usually winning. But it is even -more logical, Cornelius, to believe in no gods at all.” - -“You have a good argument, Longinus. But it seems to me that we -invariably come back to what I said when we started this gods -discussion. If there is no higher intelligence, no supreme power, then -how did all this”—he swept his arm in a wide arc—“how did we, the world, -the sun and moon and stars, everything, how did it all come into -existence in the first place? By accident? Bah! And if not by accident, -how? Answer me that, Longinus.” - -“I can’t answer you. But why should I? What difference does it make? If -this good god does exist but does not rule, if he does not enforce a -good way of living among men, if he does not protect helpless babies or -captured peoples—and obviously he doesn’t—is the world any better off -than if no gods existed in the first place?” He smiled complacently. -“But, Cornelius, I have no quarrel with your attachment to your tutor’s -strangely Yahweh-like god. Some day when I visit you in Capernaum I may -go with you to the synagogue or even the Temple at Jerusalem. I may -even,” he added with a grin, “offer a brace of doves for the sacrifices. -Or would your Yahweh insist on my offering a young lamb?” - -“_My_ Yahweh? But I’m no Jew, Longinus. The god of old Pheidias has a -greater appeal to me than Yahweh. Yahweh is too stern, too unbending, as -they interpret him. But maybe they interpret him wrong, the priests who -lead the worship, or maybe I interpret their interpretation wrong. It -may be that the true one god”—he smiled—“if there be one, my friend, has -never been properly interpreted to man. Maybe we just don’t know him, -what he’s like.” He shrugged and stepped away from the rail. “But I -think we’ve had enough of gods for one day, don’t you agree? Let’s go -inside. I’ve got some work to do before we reach Ostia; you probably -have some, too.” - -As they started toward the cabin, Longinus turned to look back. Rome was -entirely behind them now, off the port stern, but still clearly in -sight. Above the city wall and the Aventine Hill beyond and now lifted -clear of the Circus Maximus, the sprawling great Imperial Palace atop -Palatine Hill flaunted itself in the sunshine. - -_Had Claudia arisen? Was she now in her bath or in the solarium having -her hair dressed or her nails manicured? Was she in the peristylium or -on the couch in the exedra? Was she making preparations, not too -reluctantly perhaps, for her wedding with Pontius Pilate?_ - -_... Yes, and back there somewhere in that press of humanity were -Pontius Pilate and the Prefect Sejanus, by all the gods. By all the -gods, indeed. Good gods and evil gods, good to Pilate, evil to me...._ - -Longinus abruptly faced about. Ahead, straight over the bow of the -“Palmyra,” gaining momentum now in a channel clearing of the jam of -traffic within the city’s walls, was Rome’s port of Ostia, where the -great mainsail would be hoisted aloft to catch the winds that would help -speed the vessel eastward. Ahead and many days and long Great Sea miles -distant were the coasts of Palestine ... and Caesarea. Ahead, too, -despite all the gods, real or fancied, and despite Sejanus and Pontius -Pilate, was Claudia. - - - - - Palestine - - - [Illustration: decorative glyph] - - - - - 10 - - -Longinus and Cornelius strolled over to the port bow rail as the -“Palmyra,” its mainsail sliding slowly down the mast behind them, swung -around the end of the north breakwater and skimmed lightly across the -harbor toward the docks at Ptolemaïs. - -“I thought Caesarea would be our first stop.” - -“We’re putting in here only long enough to drop some passengers and a -quantity of goods Herod’s brought from Rome,” Cornelius revealed. - -Longinus looked up in surprise. “Herod’s goods?” he asked. - -“Furnishings for the palace at Tiberias—bronze tables, chairs, -decorative pieces, of Herodias’ choosing, I suspect. In fact, some of it -probably came from her house, favorite things to make her feel more at -home in Tiberias. Putting those crates ashore here will save us the -trouble of carrying them on to Joppa and Jerusalem.” - -“But when the Tetrarchess discovers that Herodias had a hand in -selecting the things....” Longinus grimaced, laughing. “Say, are you -letting your men go ashore here?” - -“Only for a few minutes, just to let them stretch their legs while the -vessel’s unloading. Don’t worry, they’ve been told to stay in the wharf -area. If they were to get near the taverns and brothels, we’d be here -all night!” - -Already the soldiers of the two centuries, impatient to get ashore ever -since they had first spotted Mount Carmel towering above the promontory -jutting out from the Phoenician coast, were lining the “Palmyra’s” -rails. Cornelius beckoned to one of his legionaries. - -“Decius, call out a detachment—twelve men should be enough—to be ready -as soon as the ‘Palmyra’ docks to take charge of transporting the -shipment of goods the Tetrarch Herod is sending to his palace at -Tiberias. His steward Chuza will put several of the palace servants to -unloading it and will arrange for obtaining carts and beasts to move it. -You will be concerned only with guarding the caravan. But be on the -alert every moment, Decius. See that you aren’t surprised by some -lurking band of thieves lying in wait for you. If anything should happen -to this shipment, by the gods, we’d never hear the end of it; word would -get back to Rome and the Prefect himself would know about it.” Upon -delivering the goods at the Tetrarch’s palace, he added, Decius should -take the detachment to the garrison post and there await his arrival -with the remainder of the century, which would be escorting Herod to -Jerusalem and from there northward to his Galilean capital. - -When some two hours later the unloading had been completed and the other -legionaries had returned to the ship, Decius stood with his detachment -beside the piled crates and casks and waved good-by to his comrades as -the “Palmyra” moved slowly away from the wharf and then, gaining speed, -headed on a straight course toward the harbor mouth. The next day the -vessel cleared the long breakwater thrust far out into the Great Sea to -provide a safe harbor at Caesarea, and Longinus and his century went -ashore. While the legionaries were assembling their gear, Cornelius -stood with him on the pier. - -“Come visit us at Tiberias, Longinus. You can contrive some mission that -will warrant your being sent, can’t you?” he asked, then added, -“Herodias will probably be coming out from Rome before long. I suspect -Herod will be going back for her as soon as he can arrange with the -present Tetrarchess for her to be supplanted....” - -“If he can—which I doubt.” - -“Whether he can amicably or not, I’d wager that he’ll be bringing -Herodias to Tiberias as Tetrarchess. Then Claudia can visit her and you -can meet her there. And marry her and keep her out here until you’ve -completed your tour of duty.” Cornelius winked and playfully nudged his -friend with an elbow. “By the gods, maybe that’s what you and Claudia -have planned all along. Is it, Longinus?” - -“No, we haven’t planned any such thing.” Longinus stared thoughtfully -out at the shore before them. “But I’ll contrive some reason for getting -up to Tiberias. And we’re bound to meet in Jerusalem during one of the -festivals; they bring in the troops then, you know. Or perhaps some -mission will bring you to Caesarea; at Tiberias, after all, you’ll be -nearer us than we will be to Jerusalem.” He clapped a hand on his -friend’s shoulder. “My love, and the blessings of the gods—including -your Yahweh—to your family.” - -Cornelius stood at the “Palmyra’s” rail as the vessel slipped away from -the wharf. When it was nearing the rounding of the breakwater, he heard -Longinus’ sharp command, and the century moved off smartly. The tapping -of the legionaries’ heavy boots in rhythmical, perfect cadence came -clearly to him across the water. Longinus turned and lifted his arm high -in salute; Cornelius returned it, as the century, swinging along the -cobblestoned way, gained a street corner and turned, then began to be -swallowed up into the maze of stone buildings beyond the piers. - -The sun was dropping low into the Great Sea when the “Palmyra” sailed -into the port at Joppa. Relieved and happy that the long voyage was -safely ended, the passengers disembarked to seek refreshment and rest -for the night. Early on the morrow Herod Antipas with Mary of Magdala -and the others of his company, escorted by Centurion Cornelius and his -century, would set out on the forty-mile journey southeastward to -Jerusalem. - - - - - 11 - - -Centurion Cornelius pointed to a horseman hurrying toward them along the -narrow road east of the river. “The advance guard must have run into -trouble, maybe Bar Abbas and his gang or some other waylaying zealots.” - -“Then you’d better send out a patrol to overtake and destroy them,” -Herod Antipas scowled. “I have no patience with those rebel cutthroats.” - -The caravan trudging up the deep trough of the Jordan had paused for the -midday refreshment. Four days ago it had descended the Jericho road from -Jerusalem to encamp for the night on the plain before the city. Horses -had been provided for the Tetrarch and certain of his household, but the -soldiers of the century, with the exception of the small advance and -rear patrols, were on foot. Heavily loaded carts and donkeys transported -the supplies, gear, and tents. The journey had been made without -incident; another day of uninterrupted progress would bring the caravan -to the Sea of Galilee, or, if they were lucky, perhaps even as far as -Tiberias. - -Cornelius stood up and signaled the approaching rider. The horseman rode -straight up to him, reined in his mount, and saluted. “Centurion,” he -reported, “up ahead at the river crossing there’s a motley crowd of -about a hundred persons, most of them men. Judging by their appearance, -they must have traveled a long way. They appear to be peaceful, but -there’s a wild-looking, hairy fellow haranguing them, and they’re -drinking in his every word; they hardly noticed me when I joined them.” - -“What was the fellow saying, Lucilius?” - -“I couldn’t understand him, Centurion. I’m not familiar with the speech -of this region, which I presume it was. But I thought he might be one of -those Galilean revolutionaries trying to incite the crowd against our -Roman rule.” - -“One of those zealots, you mean? No, hardly, Lucilius. Those rebels -don’t stand up delivering speeches; their way is to thrust a knife -between somebody’s ribs and then slink quickly away. More than likely -this fellow’s a religious fanatic, and I would guess his language is -Aramaic. There’s probably no harm in him, but you did well to report. I -understand Aramaic; I’ll return with you and investigate.” - -“I believe I know who the man is, Centurion,” the Tetrarch volunteered. -“There was a desert fellow from the Wilderness country beginning to -cause a stir here when I was leaving for Rome. I had reports then that -he was thundering invectives against everything, even the Tetrarch and -his house. He may be inciting the people against Rome. At any rate, I -want to hear him, and perhaps you should, too.” - -Mary of Magdala, seated near-by, had overheard. “I, too, would like to -hear the strange prophet.” - -“But surely even your irresistible charms would not tempt this mad -Wilderness preacher.” Antipas winked at the centurion. - -“I am not interested in charming him. But if this is the man you think -he is I have heard much about him. I would like to observe him for -myself.” - -Cornelius turned back to Antipas. “If the Tetrarch wishes, I’ll send up -a patrol to be near-by in case of any trouble. But I think, Sire, you -should disguise yourself. Then you will be able to mingle safely with -the throng, and the preacher, not knowing the Tetrarch is hearing him, -will talk freely.” - -Antipas, agreeing, quickly exchanged his purple mantle for the simple -Galilean garment of one of his servants and wrapped about his -Roman-style cropped head a bedraggled scarf to form an effectively -concealing headdress. The servant cut a reed to serve as a walking -staff. Mary, too, changed garments and veiled her face in the manner of -a Galilean peasant woman. - -Cornelius sent a patrol ahead. “Stop this side of the ford,” he -instructed Lucilius, “and try to avoid being noticed by the throng down -there. But keep on the alert for any commotion that might develop.” Then -he, Antipas, and Mary all mounted horses and rode toward the place where -the multitude had assembled. At a bend in the road some two hundred -paces from the ford the three riders dismounted behind screening thick -willows that came up from the river bank; from there they quietly made -their way down to the ford and slipped unobtrusively into the crowd. - -Every burning dark eye seemed to be focused on the gesticulating, -fiercely intent preacher. He stood in the center of the circled throng -on the river bank, and his words came to them clear and sharply -challenging, angry and pleading, denunciatory and promising. - -“You generation of vipers!” he thundered, shaking a gnarled fist in -their teeth, “have I not warned you to escape from the wrath that is -coming? Do you contend that because you are Abraham’s seed you are -secure from the judgment of a righteous God?” He lowered his voice, -strode two steps forward, and dramatically wheeled about. “What are -Abraham’s descendants to God? Could he not raise up from these very -stones”—he pointed toward the smoothly rounded small rocks lining the -water’s edge—“children for Abraham? And is not the ax ready at the foot -of the tree to cut down every one that does not bear fruit?” - -Cornelius nudged a bent Jew, his face streaked with perspiration that -ran down in soiled small beads into his grizzled beard, his whole frame -seemingly so absorbed in the speaker’s thundering words that he had not -even noticed the centurion’s arrival beside him. “That man, who is he?” - -The old fellow turned incredulously to stare. “Soldier, you have been in -Galilee long enough to speak our tongue, and yet you do not know _him_?” - -“But for many weeks I have not set foot in Galilee,” Cornelius replied. -“I am just now returning, by way of Jerusalem, from Rome.” - -“He is the Prophet John, soldier, the one sent of God to warn Israel to -repent and be baptized.” The old man turned back to give his attention -for the moment to the preacher. Then, his face earnest, he confronted -Cornelius again. “He is not concerned with Rome, soldier. He preaches -only that men should cleanse their hearts of evil and walk in the way of -our Yahweh.” Once more he turned to stare at the prophet whose eyes were -wildly flaming in his burnt dark face; ignoring Cornelius, the old man -leaned forward and raised a knotted hand to cup his ear. - -John was tall, and his leathery leanness accentuated his height. The -prophet, it was immediately evident to the centurion, was not a man of -the cities and the synagogues; he was a son of the desert and the -wastelands of Judaea, and the sun and wind had tanned his skin to the -color and hardness of old harness. Nor did he appear any more afraid of -the proud and opulent Pharisees and Sadducees who confronted him with -their disdainful smiles than he must have been of the wild animals of -his Wilderness haunts. - -“Repent! I say unto you. And bring forth fruits worthy of repentance. -Try not further the patience of God. Forswear evil and do good.” - -“But what are for us fruits worthy of repentance? What must we do?” - -The questioner, his countenance heavy with pain, stood at the river’s -edge facing the prophet. His garb revealed him to be a man of means, but -it was evident also that the thundering words of the baptizer had -stirred him deeply and that he had asked the question in all humility. - -John thrust forth a lean forefinger and shook it sternly. “You are of a -calling unloved in Israel, and justly so. You have sold your birthright -as a son of Israel to join your heel to the conqueror’s to grind -Abraham’s seed into the earth. You are a publican; I know you, and I -know the publican’s heart.” His voice was almost a hiss, and around the -clearing beards nodded in agreement with the prophet’s harsh appraisal. -“I call upon you to repent!” - -“But what, Rab John, are the fruits of my repentance?” The perspiration -was running freely down the man’s face and dripping into his beard. -“What must I do?” - -“Demand only that which is legally due you.” - -“I swear that this I shall henceforth do, Yahweh being my helper. By the -beard of the High Priest, I swear it.” The man sighed deeply, and from -the fold of his robe pulled forth a kerchief with which he mopped his -forehead, his whiskered cheeks, and the dampened long beard. - -“But we are not great ones,” ventured a gnarled and grizzled fellow who -leaned twisted on his staff, “neither are we publicans. We are the plain -and the simple and the poor of Galilee. What shall we do worthy of -repentance?” - -“You have two coats, though they be worn and patched with much wearing? -Then give one to him who has none. And you have food, though it be -coarse and not plentiful? Share what you have with him who is hungry.” - -Cornelius had noticed, standing not far from the prophet but somewhat -withdrawn from the throng as if to avoid contamination with these men of -earth such as the one who had just questioned John, a knot of -resplendently robed Israelites, their beards oiled and combed and -carefully braided, their fingers heavily ringed. Now one of these men, -his hands clasped in front of his rounded, sagging paunch, stepped -forward a pace and bowed. “Rabbi, we are priests and Levites sent by the -rulers in Jerusalem to hear and observe your teaching. We perceive that -you speak with great authority. Tell us, Rabbi”—his smile was as -unctuous as his beard was oiled—“are you that great One for whom we are -looking?” - -“I am not the Messiah,” John answered evenly. - -“Are you then the Prophet Elijah returned to us?” - -“I am not he.” - -“Then, Rabbi, who are you? We have been instructed to come and see and -carry back our report to the Temple rulers. What then shall we say of -you, who you are?” - -“Say that I am: - - “The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, - “Prepare ye the way of the Lord, - “Make straight in the desert a highway for our God. - “Every valley shall be exalted, - “And every mountain and hill shall be made low: - “And the crooked shall be made straight, - “And the rough places plain: - “And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, - “And all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the Lord hath - spoken it.” - -“You speak the words of the great Isaiah,” the pompous questioner -declared. - -“Yes,” John agreed. “And other words he said also. - - “The voice said, ‘Cry,’ - “And he said, ‘What shall I cry? - “‘All flesh is grass, - “‘And all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field. - “‘The grass withereth, the flower fadeth.... - “‘But the word of our God shall stand forever.’” - -“Then you, like we, yet look for the coming of the Messiah of God?” - -John raised a lean and burnt arm and the haircloth robe slid down along -it to his shoulder. He pointed a darting forefinger toward the Temple’s -emissary, and his countenance was solemn. “I tell you, that One is now -among us, though you have not recognized him as the Messiah of God. And -though he comes after me in time, he ranks before me; indeed, I am not -worthy to stoop down and unloose his sandal straps. I baptize you with -water, but He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire!” - -“Then, Rabbi, why do you baptize with water?” The unctuous one smiled -broadly and, pleased with his cleverness, looked from one member of the -delegation to another. - -“It is a sign that those who enter upon it have repented and been -cleansed in their hearts.” He looked the man in the eyes. “Have you -repented, my brother? Is your heart changed? Are you ready for the -coming of Him of Whom I have this moment spoken?” John whirled about, -and his lean arm described an arc that embraced the multitude. “Repent, -ye men of Israel! Ye who dwell in great houses, repent! Ye men of earth -who know not where your next mouthful will be found, repent. For the -clean in heart do not all dwell in palaces or attend upon the Temple -worship, nor do they all go about hungry and naked and shelterless.” - -As the prophet paused, he looked toward the centurion and the disguised -Tetrarch, who stood beside Mary and within a few paces of the portly -questioner from Jerusalem. Cornelius wondered what Herod was thinking of -this strange Wilderness preacher, this fiery denouncer of evildoers. But -in that same moment John resumed his discourse. “No, sin and wickedness -abide in the high places; evil reigns even in the great marble pile -built above the graves at Tiberias where the Idumaean pawn of the -conqueror despoils and seduces the people of Israel! He, too, my -brothers, even he must repent his wicked ways; he must seek the Lord -while yet He may be found, or he and his evil associates will be cast -into outer darkness!” - -The fleeting thought came suddenly to the centurion that the prophet had -recognized the large man in the soiled Galilean robe, and perhaps the -notorious woman of Magdala as well. But then would he have dared utter -such a denunciation? Was the desert preacher really a man of dedication -and courage, as people said? Perhaps. Cornelius scrutinized Herod’s -face. The Tetrarch’s normally pale complexion had turned an ugly shade -of red beneath the twisted turban, while beads of perspiration ran down -his heavy jowls. But Mary, though little of her face showed because of -the veil, appeared more amused than angered. - -The prophet’s interrogator from Jerusalem was still unsatisfied. “But, -Rabbi,” he began again, “you say that the Messiah of God is already -among us. Why then has he not declared himself, why has he not consumed -with holy fire the Edomite who possesses us and tramples into the dust -of utter subjection our ancient land?” - -John’s eyes flashed angrily, but he controlled his tongue. When he spoke -his voice was calm. “It is not for me to explain or defend the will and -works of the Messiah. I am but His messenger who goes ahead to announce -His coming, to call upon His people Israel to repent that their eyes -might be whole to see Him when He comes, that their hearts might be -clean to know Him!” With bronzed fist he smote the palm of his left -hand, his ardor mounting. “You leaders of the people”—he stabbed a lean -forefinger toward the haughty group from Jerusalem—“cleanse your own -hearts; let fall from your eyes the scabs of greed and hypocrisy so that -when He comes you may recognize Him!” - -Cornelius felt a gentle tug on his arm; it was Mary. “The Tetrarch is -going back,” she whispered. “He’s furious at the man’s denunciation of -him. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he would have had to reveal his -identity in doing it, Antipas would have had him arrested. But he didn’t -want those puffed toads”—she inclined her head to indicate the Jewish -delegation—“carrying stories back, and he wished to avoid provoking a -commotion; so he overlooked the....” - -“Behold, the Lamb of God!” - -Cornelius and the woman, her report to him startlingly interrupted by -the prophet’s ejaculation, faced about quickly to look in the direction -toward which he was pointing. In that instant the others had whirled -about, too. Cornelius and Mary strained forward, trying to see above the -heads of the multitude. - -“He is the One of Whom I have been speaking!” shouted John. “Behold, the -Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world. Yonder is the Messiah -of God!” - -They saw coming along the path that led down from the road above the -river, walking with long, easy stride as he descended the grade toward -the clearing at the ford, a tall, sunburned young man, well-muscled but -lithe, broad of shoulders, erect. He wore a plain, brown, homespun robe, -belted at the waist with a length of rope, and coarse, heavy sandals. He -was bareheaded; his reddish brown hair fell away from a part in the -center of his head in locks that curled almost to his shoulders. In his -right hand he gripped a long staff cut from a sapling. As he strode down -the pathway and across the open space toward the prophet, he seemed deep -in thought, almost insensible to the throng about him. He walked -straight up to John. Cornelius and Mary could see the two talking in -subdued tones, but they could understand nothing of what was being said -by either man. - -“What are they saying?” It was the bent old Jew; he still stood near-by, -and he had cupped his palm to an ear lost in grizzled earlocks. -“Soldier, can you hear them?” - -“No, not a word,” Cornelius answered. “They aren’t talking loudly enough -for us up here.” - -At that moment a youth who had been down at the water’s edge standing a -few feet away from the prophet approached them. He heard the old man’s -question. “They are arguing about baptizing the tall one,” he explained. -“He wants the desert preacher to baptize him, but the preacher claims it -should be the other way around; he says he isn’t worthy to baptize the -Messiah.” - -“The Messiah!” The old man had been peering intently at the tall young -man standing calmly beside the prophet. “Is that the one the prophet -called the Lamb of God, the one long expected of Israel?” - -“Yes, the tall one.” - -“Why do you ask?” Cornelius inquired of the bent one. “Do you know the -man?” - -“Do I know him?” The old man chuckled. “Soldier, I come from Nazareth. -Many’s the day I have worked with Joseph, that boy’s father, planing one -end of a beam while he was shaping the other end. But Joseph’s dead now, -been dead a long time. That boy there lives with his mother, the widow -Mary.” - -“What does he do?” - -“He’s a carpenter, too, like his father before him. And he’s a good boy -and a hard-working boy, soldier. But Jesus ben Joseph the Messiah of -Israel....” The old fellow, both hands braced on his gnarled stick, -shook his head incredulously. “Soldier, my faith in that John the -Baptizer is weakening. He must be”—he removed one hand from the stick -and with bent forefinger tapped his forehead—“a little touched.” - -Cornelius laughed. “I don’t know much about this Messiah business, but, -I agree, he must be.” Then he turned to Mary. “Are you ready to go? I -mustn’t let Herod get too far ahead. I’m responsible for his arriving in -Tiberias, you know.” - -They started retracing their way along the path to the road; where it -joined the broader way, they turned southward. When a moment later they -came out from behind a clump of shrubs grown up in an outcropping of -small boulders, Cornelius glanced over his shoulder toward the ford and -the throng. He caught Mary’s arm and pointed. - -The haircloth mantle and the brown homespun robe had been thrown across -small bushes at the river’s edge. In the center of the little stream, -with the water up to their loincloths and their faces lifted heavenward, -stood the gaunt Wilderness prophet and the tall bronzed young man from -Nazareth. - - - - - 12 - - -The Procurator’s Palace sat high on a promontory overlooking the harbor -at Caesarea. A marble-paved esplanade led from the cobblestoned street -up to the palace, and on its west side facing the Great Sea an immense -terrace of colored, polished stones went out from the peristylium. - -In the days when King Herod, father of Antipas, determined to build here -on the Palestinian coast a fabulous port city to honor his patron, the -Emperor Augustus, the place was an insignificant town called by the -unusual name of Strato’s Towers. Then there was virtually no harbor. But -at tremendous cost in the lives of slaves and artisans and money wrung -in taxes from his already poor subjects, Herod built of huge stones sunk -in twenty fathoms of often rough water a tremendous mole that went out -and around like a protecting arm to form a safe shelter for countless -ships of every type. - -Quickly old Herod had transformed Strato’s Towers into a beautiful and -busy city more Roman than Jewish. A stranger unfamiliar with the region -and just landed from a trireme in the harbor at Caesarea, in fact, would -hardly realize that he was in a Palestinian city. Not only were its -great public buildings and lavish homes Roman—its Procurator’s Palace, -its immense hippodrome for athletic sports and gladiatorial combats, its -theater, its gleaming marble temples to pagan gods—but Roman, too, were -many of its people. Its population actually was of varied -nationalities—Roman, Greek, Syrian, Idumaean, Ethiopian, and many -others; there were countless slaves from conquered provinces—Germania, -Gaul, Dalmatia, even here and there one from Britannia—a motley -multitude from every region on the rim of the Great Sea and even from -lands farther away. Caesarea was a metropolitan city set down upon the -coast of this ancient homeland of the Samaritans and their more -peculiarly Hebrew cousins the Judaeans. - -Today the newly arrived Procurator Pontius Pilate and his wife sat in -the warming sunshine on the terrace and looked down upon the busy harbor -and the Great Sea stretching westward into the blue haze. Obliquely -facing them, so that he could see both the harbor and a portion of the -maze of buildings pushing one upon the other from it, sat their guest, -the Centurion Longinus. - -Claudia pointed to a large merchant ship being tied up at one of the -docks below. “This is a tremendous harbor, rivaling Ostia’s, isn’t it? -Look at all those vessels, and that one that has just sailed in. Judging -by its size, I’d say it was an Alexandrian grain ship.” - -“It is a great harbor, and wonderfully protected. In fact, I was amazed -to find Caesarea such a modern city.” Pilate smiled broadly. “I had -feared that it would be another typical provincial outpost.” - -“On the contrary, Excellency, it’s quite a metropolis,” Longinus -observed. “You’ll discover people here from every part of the world, and -far fewer Jews, I suspect, than you had anticipated finding. Of course, -you’ve hardly had time yet to learn much about the city.” - -Pilate laughed, but with little humor. “The fewer Jews the better. I’m -glad the capital of the province is here rather than at Jerusalem; it -would be galling, I suspect, to be forced to spend most of one’s time in -that nest of Jews. Speaking of Jerusalem, Centurion, I plan to visit the -city shortly and have a straight talk with that High Priest. I wish it -known at the very beginning of my Procuratorship that I intend to -demonstrate clearly and forcefully, if that be necessary, that Rome -cannot be trifled with by these obstinate and pestiferous Jews. You, of -course, have been to Jerusalem?” - -“Not since I came out this time. But on many occasions previously, -including visits during the festivals. If you go there during Passover -week, you’ll see Jews from every part of the world.” - -“I have already seen enough of them for a lifetime,” Pilate said, -scowling. But quickly he smiled again. “Centurion, I am going to the -cohort’s headquarters; I wish to talk with Sergius Paulus.” He clapped -his hands, and a slave came running. “Summon my sedan bearers,” he -commanded. “May I take you to your quarters,” he asked Longinus, “or -will you stay longer and entertain Claudia?” He turned to his wife and -smiled warmly. “A familiar face, and a Roman one, is particularly -welcome in this strange outpost of the Empire, isn’t it, my dear -Claudia?” - -“Yes, indeed, Pilate.” She reached over and put her hand lightly on the -centurion’s arm. “Longinus, do stay and talk. You can give me -instructions on how to act out here in this strange region, strange to -Pilate and me, at any rate.” - -In a few minutes the servant announced that the sedan bearers were -awaiting him, and Pilate excused himself. When he was gone, Longinus -moved his chair nearer Claudia. “I wonder why he invited me to stay,” he -said. “Does he suspect us, do you suppose? Or,” he added with a wry -smile, “is there no longer any occasion for his doing that?” - -“I don’t think he suspects us, although I haven’t yet learned how to -weigh his words or actions. But what if he does?” She shrugged. “With me -everything is just as it was before you left Rome. But maybe”—coyly she -looked up at him from beneath her long lashes—“you have discovered some -woman out here....” - -“No. And I haven’t looked. But I wonder how much he knows or suspects.” -He told her of his last conversation with the Prefect, of the -determination of Sejanus to keep her happily away from Rome, of that -wily rascal’s invitation—in fact, almost command—to do whatever might be -necessary, including the invasion of the Procurator’s bed, to detain her -in contented exile. “But I don’t think he suspected then that we were -planning to get married almost immediately. And I’m sure Pilate didn’t.” -His forehead wrinkled in deep study. “By any chance, Claudia, have you -let slip...?” - -“About us, to him? Of course not.” - -“To anyone... Herodias maybe, the gods forbid. I wouldn’t trust that -woman as far as I could throw that grain ship over there. Could you, -without realizing it, have let slip...?” - -“Yes, I did tell Herodias. She does know that you and I were planning to -marry and come out to Palestine. But I’m sure neither she nor Antipas -has said anything to Pilate about it ... if they’ve even seen him since. -And certainly they haven’t talked with Sejanus.” - -“Anyway, Claudia, we must be doubly careful. So long as Sejanus thinks -I’m simply keeping you ... satisfied, he called it, it’s all right. But -should he get the notion that I might be planning to take you away from -Pilate and back to Rome ...” he broke off, scowling. “And here there’ll -be other eyes and ears watching and listening, too. But when Pilate goes -to Jerusalem, can’t we arrange...?” - -“I’ll be going, too,” she interrupted. “And so must you. We can contrive -some excuse for your accompanying us.” Her eyes were bright with -smoldering fires, he saw, and her lips warm, he knew, and red and eager, -and he remembered the taste of the Falernian upon them. But adamantly he -turned his eyes away to look toward the great harbor. “And in Jerusalem, -Longinus, beloved”—her hand had caught his arm and was squeezing -hard—“we’ll find some way.” - - - - - 13 - - -Sergius Paulus, who commanded the legionaries escorting Procurator -Pontius Pilate and his party to Jerusalem, halted his column several -hundred paces west of the great market square outside the Joppa Gate. - -“Sheathe the cohort’s emblems!” he commanded, and quickly down the line -of march the soldiers began covering the banners of the Second -Italian—the likenesses of the Emperor Tiberius, the screaming eagles, -the fasces with their bundled arrows and axes, everything that flaunted -the proud victories of this cohort of Rome’s conquering armies. - -“But Commander Sergius,” Pilate began to protest, “by whose orders must -Rome thus bow to these haughty Jews? Is this, by any chance, _your_ -scheme for forestalling possible disorder?” - -“No, Excellency, the sheathing of the emblems in Jerusalem is not of my -devising; it follows a long established custom, started, I believe, by -the Emperor Augustus as a result of a pact with the Jewish leaders and -continued by the Emperor Tiberius through orders transmitted to us by -the Prefect Sejanus.” His smile was coldly professional. “I assure you, -sir, covering our emblems before the gates of Jerusalem is as -distasteful to me as it must be to the Procurator, but this is an order -I dare not violate.” - -The round face of the helmeted Procurator reddened with fury. He shook -his head angrily and banged his heavy fist against the apron of the -chariot in which he stood beside his wife. “I am not accustomed to -seeing Rome display humility—abject humility—which is what this action -seems to me to be. But I shall not countermand the order you have given, -though to me it is both humiliating and exasperating that our -legionaries are forced thus to yield to these outrageous Jews.” He -raised his hand to signal. “When you are ready, Commander, let us -proceed into the city.” Then he turned to address Longinus, who had -halted near the Procurator. “Centurion, will you exchange places with my -driver? Claudia and I are entering Jerusalem for the first time; would -you be our guide and point out the principal places of interest?” - -Quickly the exchange was accomplished, and the detachment, its emblems -shielded now from view, resumed its march. Crossing the market place at -the gate, a suddenly stilled large square that a moment before the -Romans’ arrival had been a hubbub of shouts and shrill cries of -bargaining, the procession moved through the gateway to enter a narrow -cobblestoned street also strangely deserted. - -“But where are the people to welcome us?” Pilate inquired, his balding -high forehead creased in anger and consternation. “Why this unnatural -calm?” - -“They have retreated inside their shops and houses and closed the -shutters; right now they are peering at us through lattices and from the -roof tops, Excellency. This is the way they show their scorn for their -conquerors. It will be our good fortune if we are not pelted with rotten -vegetables and fruit thrown from the house tops, or even tiles from the -roofs.” He smiled, not too happily. “The Jews, Excellency, don’t have -much affection for us Romans.” - -The veins in the Procurator’s neck swelled as though they might burst, -and his countenance was livid. “In every province in which I have -formerly entered with our troops,” he declared, “the populace has -welcomed us thunderously, often with flowers and branches of trees -thrown in our way, and many times they have even prostrated themselves -before us.” He knotted his fist again. “By all the gods, I shall teach -these Jews better manners. Nor shall I delay long in setting them to -their lessons!” - -Claudia laid a soothing hand on her husband’s arm; with the other she -pointed to the right. “Those huge buildings! Longinus, they appear to be -towers. And what tremendous stones. I didn’t know these Jews were -capable of raising such structures.” - -“Yes, on the contrary, the Jews are good artisans, and old Herod, who -built many great edifices here as well as at Caesarea and other cities, -also employed many foreign workers of great skill. He evidently wished -to emulate Augustus in raising magnificent public buildings.” They were -coming now to a great square tower, one of those to which Claudia had -pointed. “This first one is the Hippicus Tower, named, I have heard, for -a friend of Herod. The next one, in the middle, is Phasael, called that -in honor of Herod’s brother. But that one”—he pointed in the direction -of a third—“is the most famous, perhaps because he built it to the -memory of the only wife he really loved. It’s called the Mariamne Tower, -after the one he had killed. They say that the old reprobate almost went -insane with grief after he’d executed her. Claudia, this Mariamne was -the grandmother of Herodias and her spendthrift brother Agrippa. -Mariamne was a member of the ancient Hasmonean line of Israelite rulers. -Very soon now we’ll be passing the old Hasmonean Palace; it’s over near -the viaduct that connects Zion Hill with the Temple.” - -“But, Longinus, where is the Procurator’s Palace?” - -“Yes, Centurion, I’d be interested in seeing it.” - -“It’s behind that wall joining the three towers, sir. And it’s a -tremendous place, too, with fountains and flowers and grass and -trees—you will love it, Claudia—it serves as headquarters of the -Procurator when he visits Jerusalem, though it’s called Herod’s Palace. -When the Tetrarch is in Jerusalem, especially if the Procurator is here -at the same time—for instance, during Passover feasts—the Tetrarch -usually stays at the Hasmonean Palace. Excellency”—he faced the -Procurator again, for he had been busy with the reins in an attempt to -dodge a heavily loaded cart being pulled by a trudging donkey—“do you -plan to stop here at Herod’s Palace, or will you stay in the -Procurator’s quarters at the Tower of Antonia?” - -“What was the custom of Valerius Gratus? Where did he stay?” - -“He usually lodged here, I believe. It’s more comfortable, of course, -and perhaps will be quieter than the quarters at Antonia.” - -“Perhaps”—Pilate faced Claudia, his expression questioning—“then we -should stay at Herod’s Palace. But, pray the gods, why should it be -called Herod’s Palace now? The Herods no longer have authority in -Judaea.” - -“It was built by old Herod, sir, and the name persists. Things change -slowly out here; tradition and custom rule in Judaea. I’m sure you’ll -realize that more the longer you remain in Palestine.” They were nearing -a gate in the high wall that gave admittance to the palace. Several -guards at the gate, seeing the procession of Roman troops, straightened -and raised their arms in salute. Longinus lifted the reins to halt the -chariot. - -“No, not yet,” Pilate said. “Claudia wishes to see the Temple and -Antonia Tower before we stop. Don’t you, my dear?” - -“I do. Then, after I’ve had a look at them, we can return, can’t we? And -if the Procurator is kept at Antonia Tower longer than he expects to be, -perhaps the centurion would fetch me back here?” - -Longinus smiled. “Of course,” he murmured, then turned to Pilate. “But, -sir, you won’t be able to proceed far with the chariots. You’ll have to -change to horseback or be borne in a sedan chair. These Jerusalem -streets are very narrow, and many of them ascend and descend stairs that -a chariot could scarcely manage.” - -Pilate nodded. “Thank you, Centurion. In that case we’ll leave the -chariots here, and I’ll ride horseback. Claudia can take a sedan chair.” -He looked toward his wife, and his eyes were questioning. “That is, if -she still wishes to go on to Antonia.” - -“Yes, I’d particularly like to see the Temple; I’ve heard stories of -what a marvelous structure it is. I’ll go on, and Longinus can bring me -back.” She smiled. “Would you?” - -“As you wish,” he said. - -Pilate nodded. “If you will, Centurion. Or I can send someone to bring -you here, Claudia, if the centurion finds that he cannot get away from -his duties. I’ll probably be detained for some time at the Tower. I am -determined to see the High Priest before the sun sets. I had planned to -call on him at his palace, but now, after the reception Jerusalem has -given me, by all the gods”—his face was reddening again—“I shall summon -him to come to me!” - -So the column was halted along the narrow way in front of the sprawling -Herod’s Palace. The chariots were driven inside the palace grounds and -left there, and a sedan chair was brought out by bearers quickly -recruited from the palace’s staff of servants. - -“Centurion, if you will ride in the sedan chair with Claudia,” the -Procurator said, “you can point out to her the places of importance in -this nest of obstinate Jewry.” He mounted a gaily caparisoned horse and -rode forward to the head of the column. - -“Perhaps, Excellency, it would be best for me to go ahead with the -advance guard”—Sergius Paulus smiled grimly as Pilate came abreast of -him—“to absorb the stones that may be hurled at the new Procurator, not -that there is any personal animosity toward you, sir, but because you -are a symbol of Rome’s dominion....” - -“No! I’m not afraid of them!” the Procurator angrily interrupted. “And, -by great Jove, I’ll teach them to respect the dominion of Rome!” He -spurred his horse several paces ahead of the cohort commander. - -Meanwhile Claudia and Longinus had settled themselves in the sedan -chair. As it moved off, they did not draw the curtains. “It isn’t -because I am afraid to draw them,” Claudia said to him. “I’m not afraid -of Pilate, nor am I afraid of the people out there. It’s because I want -to see Jerusalem.” - -“You don’t think Pilate might become suspicious, do you, or even -jealous?” - -“Pilate thinks only of Pilate and how he can advance his own fortune. -He’s ambitious and egotistical; he craves authority, and he covets -riches. He’ll do nothing to displease me, not because of affection for -me, but because I’m the stepdaughter of the Emperor and because our -marriage was arranged by the Prefect. If he’s ever jealous of me—and I -think he never will be—I’m quite certain he will make every effort not -to show it.” - -“Which means?” - -“That it should not be difficult for us to contrive to see each -other....” - -“Tonight?” - -Claudia laughed. “Are you, I hope, that eager?” - -“I’ve been that eager for many weeks, Claudia.” He leaned across to take -her hand. She drew it back. - -“Not now, Centurion. The soldiers, you know....” - -“Then you are afraid of the Procurator’s knowing....” - -“Not afraid, Longinus. Say, rather, discreet.” - -Now they were being borne down a flight of stone steps. The hoofs of the -horses in front of and behind them clattered and slipped, and sometimes -an animal would go to its knees, though the heavily burdened donkeys -coming up the stairs and keeping close to the buildings managed to -scramble forward on nimble, sure feet. Sometimes a swaying load piled -high on a donkey’s back would be overbalanced and topple as its -containing straps burst, and in a moment the merchandise would be -trampled to bits by the soldiers’ steeds. - -When they reached the bottom of the steps and began to move along a -level portion of the street where there was an open space between the -buildings on the right, Claudia suddenly pointed. “That must be the old -Hasmonean Palace where the ancestors of Herodias’ mother lived.” - -“Yes.” - -She scowled. “It’s a stern and forbidding pile of stones.” - -“You’ll find that most Jewish public buildings are that way, the palaces -especially. But once you get inside them, you’re bound to find them -enchanting. Herod’s Palace has a sumptuous array of grass and flowers -and fountains; you should enjoy your stay there.” - -“Perhaps.” She smiled coyly. “It depends.” Then she pointed. “What on -earth is that next building? It, too, looks like a fortress.” - -“That place is called the Xystus; it’s a Roman-style gymnasium built by -King Herod, who also constructed down this way”—he pointed off toward -the south—“an open-air theatre and”—he nodded in the opposite -direction—“northeast of the Temple area a large hippodrome where he held -games and gladiatorial sports modeled after ours at home. But the -orthodox Jews will have nothing to do with any of these things; they -won’t even go near the places. To do so would violate some of their -religious laws.” - -The sound of the horses’ hoofs pounding ahead suddenly changed. - -“Are we on a bridge?” Claudia asked, as she leaned out left. She rode -facing forward, while Longinus sat opposite her, his back to the streets -unwinding ahead of them. “Yes, I see we are,” she answered her own -question. “And it’s a high one. Look, Longinus, by the Bountiful Mother! -That structure across there! It’s ... it’s unbelievable!” - -“That’s the Temple,” he announced. “It’s the Jews’ temple to their -Yahweh. And it is one of the most gorgeous—if that’s the proper word, -Claudia—and costliest buildings in the world. It’s made of white marble, -the finest cedarwood, and untold bronze and other materials of the most -extravagant quality, and trimmed with sheet gold and precious gems. -You’ll see when we cross the bridge and enter its walls.” Their sedan -chair was nearing the middle of the viaduct now. “See, it’s a high -bridge. It connects Zion Hill, which we’ve just left, with the Temple -region. Over there”—he twisted about to point to the Temple on his right -and behind him—“is Mount Moriah. Between the two hills is this sharp -drop called the Tyropoeon Valley; some call it the Valley of the -Cheesemongers. In festival times these hillsides swarm with pilgrims -coming from all over the world to worship at the Temple, which they -consider the residing place of their Yahweh.” He laughed, then gestured -with outflung hands. “But we should have Cornelius here to be your -guide. He knows far more about the religious customs and beliefs of the -Jews than I do; in fact, we had quite a talk about it on the boat coming -out, and I charged him with being a worshiper of the Jews’ god himself.” - -Near the end of the towering viaduct the procession stopped, and the -soldiers dismounted. Quickly a litter was provided for the Procurator, -and then the marching column, with Pilate’s sedan chair in the vanguard -and Longinus and Claudia some paces behind him, moved off the viaduct -and passed beneath a great arch. - -“This is called the Gate Shalleketh,” Longinus told her. “It’s the main -gate into the Temple area from the Zion section of the city.” - -“I’m amazed that you know so much about Jerusalem,” Claudia began, then -suddenly stopped as, startled, she caught sight of a veritable forest of -marble columns, gigantic, reaching upward out of her range of vision -from within the constricting sedan chair. “Bona Dea! Longinus, this is -unbelievable! What a majestic structure! And look how far it extends! -It’s mammoth, breath-taking!” - -“And that’s only one of the porches, as they call it,” Longinus hastened -to explain. “This one is styled the Royal Portico of Herod. Its marble -columns, as you can see, are more than a hundred feet high. And look, -Claudia”—he pointed behind, over his shoulder—“the colonnade itself runs -almost a thousand feet. Have you ever seen anything so fantastic?” - -“No, and I’m sure the High Priest couldn’t be a bit more effective than -you in singing the Temple’s praises,” Claudia declared, laughing. “But -it really is a marvelous structure these Jews have built to their -superstition.” - -“Yes, I agree. And that’s exactly what I told Cornelius.” - -The procession turned squarely to the left and started to emerge from -beneath the great roofed colonnade into the strong sunlight of an -immense open square. - -“This is called the Court of the Gentiles,” Longinus explained. “And -over there is the Temple proper. Inside it is a place they call the Holy -of Holies. Only the High Priest himself, they say, is permitted to enter -it, and then only on a feast day, maybe once a year.” - -“I’ve heard that inside that room there’s a golden head of an ass and -that the Jews actually worship this ass’s head.” - -Longinus smiled. It was an old story he had heard many times, he -explained, though never from a Jew. Perhaps it started, so far as Rome -was concerned at any rate, with the time that Pompey, searching for -treasure, invaded the holy shrine of the Jews. “But he found no golden -head of an ass. He found only an empty chamber, severe and forbidding, -with nothing in it but a few golden vessels and some furniture that was -probably used as an altar. That’s the story the Jews tell, anyway.” - -“But this one god, Longinus, what did you say they call him?” - -“Yahweh, or Jehovah.” - -“Yes, I remember. But where is he? Don’t they have any statues of him -somewhere in the Temple, Centurion?” - -“No, according to what I’ve heard from the Jews themselves and from what -Cornelius has told me—and he knows far more about their religious -customs and beliefs than I do—statues are one thing they definitely do -not have. They declare that their god is a spirit without body and to -them any sort of representation in physical form—whether it be statues, -carvings, or whatnot—would be sacrilege. That’s why they were so -violently opposed to our bringing in unsheathed emblems. They have the -strange belief that our army emblems are what they call ‘graven images,’ -and their laws expressly forbid any such thing. They won’t even engrave -the head of a man or an animal on any of their coins.” He shook his -head, as though scarcely able to believe his own words. “Strange, these -Jews. But you will discover that for yourself before you’ve been out -here many weeks.” - -They were coming opposite the eastern face of the Temple proper. “Look -at that gate, or door!” Claudia pointed again. “Whatever it is, it’s -tremendous! And it shines as though it were gold!” - -“They call it the Beautiful Gate. It’s made of Corinthian brass and -plates of gold, and it’s so heavy it takes a score of strong men to open -and close it. They say it was given by a rich foreign Jew. It must have -cost many a sesterce, don’t you think?” - -“I’m sure it did.” Her eyes were wide with disbelief. “The whole place -is magnificent; why I’ve never seen anything like....” Suddenly she -clamped a hand to her nose. “By all the gods, Longinus, what an odor!” -She leaned her head out. “Bona Dea, all that cattle. No wonder that -awful stench. What on earth are cattle and sheep doing in this beautiful -place, Longinus? Can it be for sacrificing, by all the great and little -gods!” - -“Yes, it’s for sacrificing.” Longinus grimaced. “The Jews think that -slitting an animal’s throat and throwing the blood on that great altar -somehow cleanses them of their sins. I don’t understand how it -could....” - -The young woman’s laugh was derisive. “Bringing all those poor animals -in here to befoul this beautiful place, these gorgeous mosaics, to -pollute the very air, and they call that cleansing themselves. Bona Dea, -their Yahweh, if he demands this sort of worship, must be a bloodthirsty -god. It just goes to prove, Centurion, that this one-god religion has -less sense to it than even our silly superstitions.” - -“That’s what I told Cornelius. I see no efficacy in slitting the throats -of poor beasts and slaughtering countless doves and pigeons in order to -serve some god. Of course, so far as the priests are concerned, it’s a -highly profitable business. But, of course, why should we criticize the -Jews when we do it in Rome, too, though not on such a grand scale?” - -A few paces farther on, the procession turned squarely to the left again -and proceeded along a third side of the Temple enclosure, past the -stalls of the lowing, frightened cattle and the cages of birds and the -money-changers seated behind their tables. From the long portico the -marchers pivoted to the right, then ascended steps that led to a wide, -paved esplanade. - -“This is the platform before the Tower of Antonia. We’re coming to it -now.” He motioned behind him. “It’s the Roman military headquarters in -Jerusalem. But Pilate must have told you all about it.” - -She leaned out and looked westward along the platform. “Pilate tells me -very little,” she answered. “By the gods, it’s a tall structure and a -grim-looking one. Doubtless overrun with soldiers, too, even in the -Procurator’s private apartments.” She winked and smiled. “I’m glad -Pilate decided to stop at the Herod Palace during our visit to -Jerusalem. He’ll probably be here at Antonia much of the time. It should -be easier then to arrange things over there.” - -“Things?” - -“Well”—her tone was playful, her eyelids fluttered teasingly—“yes, -things for people to do ... two people.” - - - - - 14 - - -It was past midnight when Longinus returned at last to the now quiet -Tower of Antonia. Before leaving Caesarea he had arranged with Sergius -Paulus to have little more than token duty during the stay in Jerusalem. -In the weeks since his arrival in Palestine, he and the cohort commander -had come to an understanding; although Sergius knew little of the -centurion’s reasons for being in this far eastern province, he did know -that Longinus had been sent out by the Prefect Sejanus, and Sergius was -not disposed to challenge, or even question actions of the Prefect. - -Pontius Pilate had not returned to the palace; presumably he had eaten -his evening meal at the tower with the officers there. At any rate, -Longinus and Claudia had not been disturbed. - -But when Longinus was admitted by the guards at the tower’s outer gate, -he deliberately walked past the stairs leading to the southwest tower, -where the administrative offices, including the Procurator’s quarters, -were situated. Going by the southeast tower would take him a bit out of -his way, Longinus reasoned, but he would be less likely to run into the -Procurator at this late and embarrassing hour. - -The centurion had been assigned quarters in the officers’ section on a -floor level with a great gallery along the Temple side of Antonia; a -protective rampart ran the length of this gallery, and a door opened -onto the gallery from each officer’s quarters. - -The air in the small chamber was musty and warm, and Longinus, too, was -warm from the exertion of his walk back to the tower. He sat on the side -of his bed for a moment, then stood up and opened the outer door. When -the draft of fresh air swept in, he stepped out onto the gallery to wait -there until his chamber had cooled. - -As he stood leaning on the rampart, Longinus heard a door open behind -him. Turning, he saw a soldier coming out. Another man too warm to fall -asleep, he thought, as he turned back to stare at the still and almost -deserted Temple enclosure. Fires smoldered on the great altar, and -flickering lamplight from the region of the cattle and sheep stalls gave -a look of eeriness to a scene that just a few hours before had been a -bedlam of sound and movement. - -The other soldier halted near him to look down also on the somnolent -Temple. The man pointed over the parapet. “Still an amazing picture, -even in the nighttime, isn’t it?” - -“Cornelius!” Longinus said, recognizing the voice and whirling around to -face the other. “By all the gods, man, I thought you were in Galilee!” -He clapped a heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But I’m glad to see -you, Centurion.” - -“And I had no idea you were in Jerusalem, Longinus!” Cornelius responded -with a shoulder-shaking slap. “How long have you been here? Did you come -today with the Procurator?” - -“Yes, we arrived here a little past midday; we marched out of Caesarea -at daybreak day before yesterday. But, by Jove”—he pointed to a stone -bench set against the rampart—“let’s sit down, Cornelius. I’ve had a -hard day, and I’m sure you have, too. When did you get into Jerusalem, -and did you bring your century?” - -“We came only an hour before sunset. Yes, I had orders from the new -Procurator to meet him here with my century.” - -“But why, pray Jove? It’s no festival occasion. Can Pilate be expecting -trouble? He didn’t indicate any such thing to me.” - -“There’s no reason why he should be anticipating any trouble, so far as -I can see ... unless he’s planning to provoke it himself.” - -“But why would he do that? He must know that Tiberius and Sejanus are -determined to keep our conquered dominions at peace, if for no other -reason than to insure the uninterrupted flow of revenue. But”—Longinus -shrugged—“maybe Pilate wants to make a show of force in the hope of -increasing that very flow—with the increase going into his own pockets, -of course—which might be why he’s been conferring at such length with -Caiaphas and old Annas.” He pointed toward a lighted window high in the -southwestern tower. “Look, they’re still up there. Pilate didn’t even go -to the Herod Palace for the evening meal with his new wife.” - -“New wife? I didn’t know Pilate was married.” - -“Yes. Since we left Rome. And you’ll be surprised to learn who she is.” - -“Who?” - -“Claudia.” - -“By all the great gods! Longinus, I thought you would be marrying -Claudia.” - -“We had planned to be married.” Longinus paused. “But Tiberius and -Sejanus made this other arrangement.” - -Cornelius shook his head. “But what does Claudia say about it?” - -“What can she say? To them, I mean. But to me she declares that nothing -has changed between us. And judging by this afternoon and tonight—I’ve -been with her ever since we reached Jerusalem until a few minutes -ago—nothing has.” - -“But couldn’t that be dangerous for you two?” - -Longinus shook his head. “I hardly think so. Their marriage was an -entirely arranged one, and furthermore, I’m convinced Pilate would do -nothing to offend Claudia.” - -“Tell me”—Cornelius leaned forward and tapped his friend’s knee—“you -knew before we left Rome that this arrangement had been made?” - -“Yes, but I couldn’t say anything about it then, Cornelius.” - -“I understand. You were in some kind of cross fire, weren’t you?” - -“Yes.” - -“And you have an understanding or arrangement with Sejanus, don’t you—I -don’t mean about Claudia? Wait....” He held up his hand. “Don’t answer -that. But I do want you to remember, Longinus, that regardless of what -may happen, I’m on your side ... yours and Claudia’s.” - -“I know that, my friend. And I’m on your side ... regardless. And it may -be that sometime we’ll need one another’s support. With old Tiberius and -crafty Sejanus on the one hand and this vain and ambitious Pilate on the -other, and perhaps Herod Antipas....” With mention of the Tetrarch’s -name, he paused. “I assume you got him delivered to Tiberias in safety. -What did his Arabian Tetrarchess say about Herodias?” - -“She had heard about it before we reached Tiberias, perhaps from some of -that fellow Chuza’s servants, the ones who fetched the furnishings from -Ptolemaïs, you remember. But that was only the beginning. Now they’re -wondering at the palace what she’ll do when Antipas gets back with his -new wife; he’s already left for Rome, they say, to fetch her, and when -Herodias arrives, she’ll probably be taking over as Tetrarchess.” - -They sat for a long time in the coolness of the gallery high above the -sleeping Temple, and Cornelius related his experiences in escorting the -Tetrarch up the narrow defile of the Jordan River and their encounter -that day with the strange Wilderness preacher. He described the man’s -bitter denunciation of Herod and his sudden and dramatic pointing out of -a tall young Galilean carpenter as the Jews’ long looked for Messiah, -the man foretold by the ancient Israelite prophets as he who would -redeem their historic homeland from its bondage. - -“As we were leaving the place, I turned and looked back,” Cornelius -added. “The strange prophet and the tall Galilean were standing in the -river with the water up to their loincloths; the tall one had asked to -receive something they call baptism, a symbolic cleansing of one’s sins, -as I understand it.” Cornelius paused and stared thoughtfully at his -hands. “I shall never forget the look on that man’s face, Longinus. Ever -since that day I have been wondering about him. The Jewish Messiah.” He -said it slowly, as though he were talking more to himself than to his -friend. “Do you remember that day on the ‘Palmyra’ when we were talking -about this Yahweh of the Jews, this one-god spirit? You said then that -you would never be able to imagine a being without a body.” - -“Yes, I remember it quite clearly. But what are you going to say,” -Longinus demanded, “that this tall fellow might have been a god turned -into a man? By all the gods, Cornelius, you don’t mean to tell me you -think this Galilean could be the Messiah of the Jews? Their Messiah, if -I understand it correctly, will be a great military leader who will -drive us pagan Romans out of Palestine and re-establish the ancient -Israelite kingdom. Even the Jews don’t believe he’ll be a god, do they?” - -“I don’t know, Longinus. I think most Jews believe he’ll be a great -earthly king, as you say. But listening to that wild fellow and seeing -the look on that young man’s face”—he paused, then ventured a hesitant -grin—“well, those strange words, the prophet’s evident sincerity, his -intense manner....” - -“Jewish gibberish.” Longinus shook his head and scowled. “This -superstition has captured you, my friend. This eastern mysticism that -comes to a head in that cruel and extravagant circus down there.” He -pointed toward the great Temple, whose gold-plated roof shone -brilliantly in the light of the moon now emerging from behind a cloud. -“A carpenter from Galilee to overthrow imperial Rome! What with, pray -great Jove! A hammer and a chisel and a flat-headed adz?” - - - - - 15 - - -For two days after his long meeting with the High Priest Caiaphas and -the former High Priest Annas, father-in-law of Caiaphas, the Procurator -Pontius Pilate was in a sullen mood. He said little and kept close to -his quarters in the Antonia Tower. Now and then he would walk out onto -the gallery overlooking the Temple enclosure and, leaning upon the -parapet, would stare balefully at the magnificent structure and the stir -of life within and around it. - -The orderly movements of the priests, set through the long years into an -inexorable pattern as they followed the prescribed routine of their -duties, seemed almost to infuriate him. “Look at them, Centurion!” he -snapped to Longinus on one of these occasions when the centurion -happened to be sunning himself on the gallery. “See how smugly they go -about their mummery, as if it were the most important thing in the -world. They seem studiously to ignore our all-powerful Rome and lavish -every attention upon their Yahweh.” He doubled his fist and banged it -upon the parapet. “Yet one lone Roman century ordered into that hive of -impudent, arrogant busy bees could send them all flying, one Roman -century, Longinus. And by the great Jove, I’m tempted to dispatch -soldiers down there to clean out that insubordinate, traitorous nest!” - -Fortunately, though, the Procurator issued no such order, and the day -passed without the Romans’ becoming involved in the religious ceremonies -of the Jews. The next morning, however, Pilate called together all his -officers on duty in Jerusalem, including Longinus and Cornelius. -Immediately it was evident that the Procurator’s hostility toward the -Temple leadership had not diminished. - -“We are in a war of wits with these obstinate, proud Jews,” he declared, -“and I cannot defeat them by remaining on the defensive. It’s been a war -of words and gestures thus far, but I have been forced to the opinion -that we can have no victory over them until we have had some blood.” His -blue eyes swept coldly over the unsmiling faces before him. “So I have -determined upon a bold plan in which we shall take the offensive.” - -Pilate revealed that Caiaphas and Annas had rebuffed, though with -unctuous smiles and sugared words, his every effort even to discuss the -possibility of using Temple funds for the improvement of Jerusalem, -particularly the health of its residents, through the construction of -facilities to enlarge and improve the city’s water supply. - -“They insist that this money has been dedicated to their god and belongs -to him and that for me to use one denarius of it, even in promoting -their welfare, would be a profanation and a sacrilege. Old Annas, may -Pluto burn him, even suggested that the people—he emphasized the fact -that he was not himself suggesting it—might even believe that _I_ had -seized the money for my own use.” Pilate’s anger had turned his face an -ugly crimson. His voice rose to a shout. “A profanation indeed! To these -insufferable Jews everything they do not wish to do or to have done is a -profanation. Yet their priestly caste is sucking the very lifeblood of -the people in the name of religion.” He paused for a moment, then -continued more calmly. “So I have determined to initiate a bold new -plan. I shall have these Temple leaders crawling to me, and on their -bellies, cringing!” - -When it was clear that Pilate had, at least temporarily, finished, -Sergius Paulus ventured to speak. “But, Excellency, do you plan to raid -their Temple’s treasury, to commandeer the gold the Jews have stored -there? Such a course, you must realize, might provoke the wrath of the -Emperor and the Prefect, since they have made a compact with....” - -“No, Commander, I am planning no raid on their treasury,” Pilate -interrupted. “On the contrary, they will bring their treasure to me and -urge me to use it in providing a new water supply for Jerusalem. In so -doing they will admit to me and, more importantly, to their fellow -religionists that Rome is master and that their puny Yahweh is a lesser -god than our Emperor.” - -Quickly and more calmly the Procurator unfolded his plan. When three -days ago he had come into Jerusalem at the head of the troops, he -reminded them, he had suffered the humiliation, for the first time in -his military career, of marching with the proud ensigns of Rome all -sheathed. This was done, he pointed out, to appease the Jews, to mollify -their Yahweh. - -“You recall the stony silence with which we were greeted, even the -hostile looks of the people peering from behind their screens or down -from their housetops; you remember the hatred in their eyes as we -crossed through the Temple court on our way here, the taunting remarks -flung at us. Rome has lost prestige in Palestine. We must recover it, -and this I am determined to do.” The trace of a malevolent smile spread -across his round Roman face. “The Emperor must not be made to yield to -Yahweh; our eagles and our fasces must no longer be hidden from view as -though we were ashamed of them.” - -Longinus was watching Sergius Paulus. He saw the commander’s face -blanch, but Sergius said nothing. And Pilate continued outlining his -plan. - -“On top of this tower”—Pilate pointed upward—“is a perpetual flame that -burns while the vestments of the High Priest are held safe here in -Antonia. Rome therefore is providing and tending a flame that, to my -mind, is a memorial of Rome’s yielding. No ensign with the Roman eagle -flies above the fortress or hangs from its ramparts. A further testimony -to our surrender to the stubborn Jews and their jealous god.” A -humorless smile wrote thin lines at the corners of his mouth. “Of course -I am telling you what you who are stationed in Jerusalem already know. -Perhaps to me it is more galling because it is new.” He paused, as if to -consider carefully his next words. “Tomorrow, with Centurion Longinus -and his century escorting my party,” he began again, “I shall leave -Jerusalem on my return to Caesarea. Centurion Cornelius with his century -from Galilee will remain here until after my departure; how long he will -stay will be determined by the situation.” His thin smile blossomed into -a baleful grin. “During the night, after I have left, the troops -stationed here at Antonia will extinguish the flame atop the tower and -hang out from the ramparts the ensigns of Rome, including the eagles, -the fasces, and the likenesses of the Emperor.” - -“But, Excellency”—Sergius’ face was pale, and his expression mirrored -alarm—“do you realize how this action will provoke the Jews, how it will -inflame them against us, lead perhaps even to bloodshed...?” - -“I fully realize that, Commander. That is why I am ordering it. I wish -to provoke them. It is only by provoking them that we can demonstrate -forcefully to them that Rome is master.” - -“But, sir, the Emperor and the Prefect....” - -“Are you not aware that since my arrival at Caesarea I represent the -Emperor and the Prefect Sejanus in Judaea?” The words were almost a -snarl. “If you wish to dispute my authority or my judgment....” - -“But I do not, Excellency. The Procurator’s commands to me naturally -will be carried out fully.” - -“I expected as much, Commander. You will have charge of our forces in -Jerusalem in carrying out my orders. If it comes to bloodshed, do not -hesitate to shed Jewish blood if the Jews assail you; your only concern -will be to prevent the shedding by them of Roman blood. I am confident -that they will yield before offering violence to Rome; I think they -haven’t the courage to challenge us. What they will do”—his cold, -calculating smile overspread his florid face—“is send their priests, -including old Annas no doubt, whining to me at Caesarea and imploring me -to rescind my orders. Then I will have a lever with which to move them. -And thereafter, you may be sure, the legionaries and their ensigns will -be respected by the Jews as they are respected by all other conquered -peoples. Our Emperor, as he rightfully should, will then take his place, -even in Jerusalem, above their vengeful and jealous Yahweh.” - -He dismissed the group with instructions to begin at once their -preparations for putting his orders into effect. - - - - - 16 - - -For five days the roads into Caesarea from Jerusalem and central Judaea -were clogged with a motley throng of Jews pushing relentlessly toward -the Procurator’s Palace. Here and there in the multitude rode a man or -woman on a donkey, but countless hundreds trudged on foot, dust-covered -and weary in every bone but more outraged in spirit. - -Then the dam that was Caesarea’s gates was inundated, and the flood of -disgruntled Jewry, sweating, travel-soiled, frightened but still -undaunted in its anger despite the long and tiresome journey, poured -through the city to fill its market squares and surge upward toward -Pilate’s house. The angry flood had burst upon the port city hardly two -days behind the messengers sent by Sergius Paulus to warn the Procurator -of the multitude’s approach. - -The Jews, the messengers informed Pilate, were swarming toward Caesarea -to protest with all the vigor they could command his profanation, they -called it, of their holy city through the display at the Tower of -Antonia of the Roman army’s ensigns, including even the likenesses of -the Emperor Tiberius. The morning after the Procurator’s departure, they -revealed, the Jews had awakened to behold with horror the flaunted -banners. But their vehement protests to the commander of the fortress -had been unavailing. Sergius Paulus had told them with firmness that -only a command of Pilate could restore the flame above the tower and -once again sheathe the offending ensigns. - -So, alternately beating their breasts with loud lamentations and angrily -calling down their Yahweh’s curses upon the invading Edomites, as they -termed the Romans, they had surged into the roads and pushed -northwestward to demand of the Procurator himself an end to the -profanation of their Jerusalem. - -Five days ago these Jews had arrived at Caesarea, but five days of -protesting, of threatening, of pleading, and of threatening again had -not moved Pontius Pilate. “Rome is master,” declared the stubborn and -proud Procurator to the Jews’ spokesmen; “the emblems of Rome’s mastery -will not be removed or sheathed. My orders stand.” - -But the sons of Israel, too, were unyielding in their demands. “Your -Emperor Augustus, your Emperor Tiberius”—Pilate took notice that they -did not say “our” Emperor—“have respected our laws, which forbid the -display of such emblems, and have been strict in honoring our religion,” -the spokesman insisted. “Your Emperor Tiberius cannot but be angered by -the refusal of the Procurator to respect in the same manner our ancient -traditions.” - -“Go home!” Pilate ordered. “Get you back to Jerusalem. I, not you, speak -for Tiberius. I was sent out by him to govern this province, and by the -great Jove, I will govern it!” - -But the Jews did not go home. Hungry, discouraged, exhausted, they were -not defeated. They swarmed about Pilate’s palace, they fell in their -tracks on the marble of the esplanades to sleep fitfully when sheer -exhaustion overtook them; they crowded the market places, they slept in -rich men’s doorways. But they would not turn their backs on Caesarea. - -On the morning of the sixth day, Pilate called Longinus to the Palace. -“Centurion,” he said, his face livid with anger, “since Sergius Paulus -continues at Jerusalem, I wish you to take command of the troops here -and put into execution the orders I am about to give you. Send out -couriers to summon these Jews to come together in the Hippodrome; say -that I will meet them there. In the meantime, disguise a sufficient -number of your soldiers and place them about the amphitheater in -advantageous positions so that should disorder arise among the Jews, you -will be ready immediately to put it down.” - -Claudia had been listening to her husband. “But, Pilate, aren’t you -creating a situation that will produce fighting between our troops and -these Jews?” - -“And if there is bloodshed?” Pilate’s eyes flashed sudden anger. -“Haven’t I been patient with these obstinate rebels? If they choose to -get themselves run through with swords, isn’t it their own doing?” Then -quickly he recovered his poise. “Claudia,” he said quietly, “I have -given them every opportunity to return peaceably to Jerusalem. Have I -not?” - -“Yes. But you have not agreed to have the ensigns sheathed. And until -you do....” - -He turned upon her, his countenance flaming, his mood changed -completely. “Do you stand with these stubborn provincials against Rome? -Are you with them, or are you with me?” - -“Before you interrupted me, Procurator,” Claudia’s voice was as cold as -her smile, “I was going to observe that in displaying the army’s -emblems, you are really breaking a tradition, so far as I have been able -to understand it, and this tradition may very well be a long-standing -order of the Emperor and, indeed, of Augustus before him. I care not a -fig about these Jews. Nor do I care about their High Priest or their -Yahweh. I am concerned only with what will be the attitude of the -Emperor and the Prefect Sejanus toward the Procurator as a result of -this unprecedented breach of the established order.” She turned away, -her head high. Pilate seemed taken aback; he looked at her somewhat -sheepishly and licked his lips as though he were about to speak. But he -said nothing. Instead, he turned abruptly to Longinus. “I take -responsibility for the orders I give,” he said tersely. “My orders to -you are unchanged.” - -Longinus saluted, then without a word turned on his heel and withdrew. - -By early afternoon the great concourse had filled with excited, -chattering Jews. Their determined stand, they felt confident, had -defeated the Procurator; their reminder that the Emperors had honored -the Jews and their Yahweh and that Tiberius might not approve a course -taken in defiance of the long-established tradition had frightened -Pilate. He was calling them together, wasn’t he, to announce that he was -withdrawing the hated emblems and to ask them to return home victors? - -But they had judged the Procurator wrongly. And they discovered their -mistake as soon as he began to address the throng from his box high in -the stands of the great oval. - -“For five days, and this is now the sixth, you have kept our Caesarea in -turmoil. You have been obstinate and insubordinate and have shown little -respect to the Procurator, who represents the Emperor and in this -province personifies the power and majesty of the Empire. You have -threatened him with reprisal, saying that he has flouted the orders of -our Emperor. You were not only inhospitable in refusing to welcome the -Procurator to Jerusalem, you were actually hostile. In being hostile to -us, you have shown yourselves contemptuous of Rome and enemies of our -Empire; in being stubbornly hateful to me, you have shown yourselves no -friends of the Emperor.” - -Pilate paused, his face suffused with color as his anger grew with his -listing of their offenses. Then he stood back on his heels, squared his -shoulders, and held up his tightly clenched fist. “Now hear me, men of -Judaea!” he shouted. “I have asked you to disperse and return to your -homes. Stubbornly you have refused to heed my command. I am asking you -again to abandon this unreasonable, senseless, and ill-advised effort -and get yourselves outside the gates of Caesarea and on the roads that -lead homeward. Hear me, by great Jove! This is my last command to you.” -He leveled a shaking forefinger toward the multitude. “I have stationed -my soldiers in disguise among you, and they are heavily armed. They have -been instructed, upon my next command, to spring upon you and run you -through with their swords.” - -But in the vast oval of the colosseum not an Israelite moved to obey -him. Stolidly, calmly, they faced the Procurator; silence was heavy upon -the great throng. - -Pilate’s face was twisted with wrath. “Then I must give the order, men -of Judaea?” He shouted the question. - -Not a man moved. - -Then from the ranks nearest Pilate a man stepped forward a pace and held -up his hand to speak. By his dress it was evident that he was one of the -Temple leaders. “O noble Procurator,” he said in a loud voice, “though -your soldiers run us through with swords until each of us has perished, -we cannot submit to the profanation of God’s holy Temple; we cannot -countenance without protest the treading into the dust of our God’s -commandments. Before we agree to Rome’s profanation of our holy places -and her flouting of our God’s laws, O Procurator, we will bow our necks -to the Procurator’s soldiers. We will die, and gladly, for our God!” - -“Profanation! Profanation! All I hear is Rome’s profanation of your -traditions. By all the gods, in every other land our Emperor is honored, -his banners and his emblems, his likenesses paraded on our staffs, all -these are hailed with shouts and acclamations! And yet you Jews....” - -Suddenly Pilate paused. The priestly leader who had just addressed him -had fallen on his face in the dust of the great stadium, and beside him -and behind him others now were prostrating themselves. Within moments -every Jew in the place was lying face down upon the ground before the -Procurator of Judaea. Mouth open, eyes darting from one area of the -great concourse to another, aghast, Pilate stood silent. Then quietly he -spoke to Longinus, who was standing near him. “Centurion, I cannot order -men on their faces ran through with swords. It would be massacre.” - -“So it would be, Excellency, on their faces or standing, since they are -defenseless.” - -Pilate turned back to face the prostrated multitude. “Stand on your -feet!” he commanded. “I shall withhold for the moment at least my -command to the soldiers.” - -Without a word being said, without a change of countenance even, the -Jews rose to their feet and faced the Procurator. “Now send me your High -Priest and his father-in-law the former High Priest Annas,” Pilate -commanded. “No harm will be done them; this I swear by the great Jove.” - -Hours later Caiaphas and Annas returned from the conference with the -Procurator at the palace. Mounting the rostrum from which Pilate had -previously addressed them, Caiaphas held up his hand for silence. “Men -of Israel, we have just concluded our meeting with the Procurator -Pilate,” he announced. “An agreement has been reached. Now you may -return in peace to your homes. The offensive emblems of Rome, the -Procurator has assured us, will be removed so that they will no longer -profane our holy places. The God of Israel, He is One!” - -“The God of Israel, He is One!” The multitude of suddenly exultant Jews -echoed his words in a great chorus, and a hosanna of shouts swept wave -upon wave across the immense arena. Then, laughing and chattering, the -people began pushing toward the Hippodrome’s exits. - -And in all the throng not a man ventured to inquire of the High Priest -what the terms of the agreement with Pilate had been. - - - - - 17 - - -An hour before the “Actium” was to sail out of the harbor at Caesarea on -the return voyage to Rome, Centurion Longinus went aboard and handed the -captain a heavily sealed communication addressed to the Prefect Sejanus. - -“This is an army message of great importance,” he announced. “It must be -delivered in person to the Prefect. He is expecting it, and if it is not -delivered immediately after the docking of your ship, he will begin to -inquire why he has not received it.” Actually, the centurion knew that -Sejanus was not expecting a message from him on the returning “Actium,” -but telling the captain so would insure the message’s getting quickly -into the hands of the Prefect. The captain might well think that the -centurion’s letter was in reply to a message brought him from Sejanus by -the Tetrarch Herod Antipas. - -The “Actium” two days before had brought the Tetrarch and his new wife -Herodias and her daughter Salome to Caesarea, and from the wharf they -had been escorted by Longinus and a detachment of his century to the -Procurator’s Palace to be guests of Pilate and Claudia while resting a -few days after the long voyage out from Rome. From Caesarea they planned -a short visit to Jerusalem, and then they would travel northward through -the Jordan Valley to the Tetrarch’s gleaming white marble palace at -Tiberias. - -It was when Longinus learned that the “Actium” would be returning -directly to Rome that he decided to dispatch a report to the Prefect. -The report related in considerable detail the events of the Procurator’s -recent visit to Jerusalem, his flaunting, in disregard of Sergius -Paulus’ warning, of the cohort’s banners from the Antonia ramparts, the -subsequent storming of Caesarea by the irate Jews, and Pilate’s yielding -to them, after a conference with Caiaphas and Annas. Longinus advanced -no suggestion concerning the probable terms of the agreement between the -Procurator and the Temple leaders. The centurion was confident, however, -that the astute and suspicious Sejanus would infer from what he had left -unwritten that Pilate had profited handsomely. Longinus concluded the -message with an avowal that the report was factual and uncolored. - -From the “Actium” Longinus returned to the headquarters of the cohort -and that evening was a guest, along with Sergius Paulus, of the -Procurator and his wife at a small, informal dinner honoring the -Tetrarch, his wife, and her daughter. When they had finished the meal, -Herodias and her hostess retired to Claudia’s apartment, and Salome went -to her chamber. The four men remained reclining at the table, where -after a while, as they drank wine and nibbled grapes and figs, the -inhibitions of Pilate and Antipas, each vain and domineering and jealous -of the other’s authority, began slowly to disappear. Gently at first -Antipas chided the Procurator for his profanation of Jerusalem by -flaunting the ensigns of Imperial Rome from the Tower of Antonia. - -“Profanation! Profanation! All I hear in this contentious province is -profanation. I am sick of the word.” Pilate wiggled a forefinger at the -Tetrarch. “Do you consider Rome’s display of her honored emblems -profanation of Jerusalem and this province, I ask you, Tetrarch?” - -Antipas studied the fig he held between finger and thumb. “I don’t -consider it profanation, nor do the Emperor and the Prefect, but I do -agree with the Emperor and the Prefect that it is a wise course not to -offend unnecessarily the people of Israel who do so hold.” It was a -clever answer, and Antipas, knowing it, pressed the point. “It would be -politic if the new Procurator learned to uphold the traditions of this -land,” he continued, “so long, of course, as they do not seriously -conflict with the interests of the Empire and certainly”—he smiled—“so -long as the Emperor and the Prefect uphold them.” - -Pilate was quick to strike back. “I was sent out to this province to -rule it,” he declared, his eyes flashing indignation. “I was not sent -here to cower and truckle, to lower Rome’s ensigns at the demands of -your obstinate, cantankerous Jews,” he hissed. “I came to rule....” - -“But you did lower Rome’s ensigns when those obstinate—Jews bared their -necks to your swordsmen and refused to obey your command to return -home,” Antipas interrupted. Then suddenly, as though seeking a truce, he -changed his tone. “But I don’t blame you, Procurator. In fact, I admire -you; you’re a very intelligent man. Living in this province must be -trying to one who has never lived here before, and of course it’s -unrewarding unless there are ... ah ... extra benefits, shall we say ... -not provided by Rome. And there is much gold in the Temple’s coffers, I -am told. It seems that no matter how much is withdrawn, a great deal -still remains for the use of the Temple leaders, hmm?” He smiled -appreciatively. “And no doubt the Prefect will approve, too, -provided....” Grinning, he left the observation unfinished. “And with no -Jewish blood shed by your soldiers, there will be nothing to explain to -Tiberius, Excellency.” - -Pilate glared, mouth open. But he did not deny the Tetrarch’s thinly -veiled charge. “Profanations! Violated traditions!” He hurled across the -room the grape he had selected from the silver dish of piled fruit and -pointed a quaking finger at the Tetrarch. “And how dare you, Antipas, -speak of my violating the traditions and offending the religion of the -Jews, when you have just taken to bed your brother’s wife! Is that not a -heinous offense for a Jew himself...?” - -“Excellency!” Sergius Paulus, palpably fearful of what the exchange -might quickly be leading to, jumped to his feet. “The hour is growing -late, and the Centurion Longinus and I must be getting back to -headquarters. Please excuse us, sir. We’ve enjoyed your hospitality, and -we beg you to express our thanks to your wife.” He glanced toward -Longinus, who nodded agreement. “And I thought, Excellency, that the -Tetrarch perhaps might honor us by going with us—we have a sedan chair -at the door—to inspect our cohort headquarters, should you, sir, be -willing to excuse him.” He looked questioningly toward the Procurator -and then the Tetrarch. - -“Should the Tetrarch wish....” - -“I shall be happy to accompany you,” Antipas interrupted. Carefully he -pulled the stem from the fig. “It will be a change of air.” But he was -smiling, and his manner was jovial; the tension of the moment had been -dispelled. - -“When you have finished with him, Sergius”—Pilate had calmed, too, and -no rancor was revealed in his tone—“have him brought back, properly -attended. He and the Tetrarchess are always welcome at the Procurator’s -Palace.” - -But Longinus knew, as the three prepared to leave the great dining hall, -that relations between the Tetrarch and the Procurator were still -strained; he suspected that they would remain so. The temperaments of -the two men, coupled with the situations in which they had been placed, -would demand it. In his own dealings with them, in his observation and -appraisal of them and their activities, he told himself, he must bear -this always in mind. - -Meanwhile, lounging comfortably on Claudia’s large couch, pillows at -their backs, the two women had been exchanging news of their own -activities since they had last seen one another in Rome, and, more -interesting to Claudia, Herodias had been revealing tidbits of gossip -involving the more lively set in the Empire’s capital city. But soon the -discussion narrowed to their own changed circumstances. Claudia was -frank. “Yes, it’s just as I told you it would be that day you came to -return my call. I said marrying Pilate would make no difference. -Remember? Well, it hasn’t.” A cloud passed across her countenance. “Of -course, we will have to be patient, though, and wait for things to work -out.” - -“But until they do, must you never...?” Herodias paused. - -“No, it isn’t that bad,” Claudia hastened to reply, smiling. “We can see -each other and we can be together ... more and more hereafter, I hope. -We have been together already, for hours, in fact, both here at Caesarea -and in Jerusalem at the Herod’s Palace, while Pilate conveniently, I do -believe, busied himself at the Antonia Tower.” She shook her head. -“Really, Herodias, I don’t know whether the man is stupid, quite wise, -or just indifferent. But whatever he is, his being the way he is will -help Longinus and me to arrange things.” - -Herodias’ large dark eyes were bright now with scheming. “My dear, you -have never been in Galilee, have you? It’s a beautiful land, especially -now that spring is beginning to break, so much more interesting than -this barren Judaea. We have so many flowers, and willows and oleanders -and bright-blooming shrubs along the watercourses. I remember Galilee in -the spring from my childhood days and on occasional visits since. -So”—her eyes were dancing now—“you must go with us to Tiberias. We can -contrive to have Longinus escort us. And in the Palace there”—her voice -dropped to an intimate whisper—“you will have no one to disturb you.” - -“But Antipas’ other wife? What would she say if I should go with you?” - -“_I_ am the Tetrarchess of Galilee and Peraea,” she said evenly. “As -soon as we get there, Antipas is going to divorce her and send her back -to old Aretas.” - - - - - 18 - - -Before they reached the bend in the road roughly paralleling the Jordan, -whose banks were beginning to color now with the awakening of willows -and oleanders to advancing spring, the Tetrarch recognized the voice. - -“By the beard of the venerable High Priest!” Antipas exclaimed. “This -isn’t the place where he was making his stand when I came this way -before, but it’s the same fellow, that mad prophet of the Wilderness. -I’d know his haranguing anywhere.” - -Longinus was riding beside the Tetrarch. Herodias and Claudia, with -lively Salome a few paces back, were following in the narrow column, and -just behind them rode Neaera, Tullia, and several other servants of the -two households. Soldiers were in the vanguard and at the rear. - -Antipas turned to Longinus. “Centurion, I wonder if we shouldn’t go -another way and avoid encountering this fellow. I’d rather not see him -or hear more of his ranting.” - -“But _I_ want to see him.” Herodias had ridden abreast of the Tetrarch. -“He must be the one I’ve just been hearing so much about in Jerusalem. -Everybody was talking of his ability to sway the multitudes and his -fearlessness in denouncing the Temple priests.” - -“Yes, he’s the one. But, my dear Herodias,” the Tetrarch began to -protest, “he’s likely to say something that will offend you, too. The -fellow has no respect for the Tetrarch’s office or authority and no -bridle on his loose tongue.” - -“By the gods, then, that’s all the more reason I want to hear him.” She -laughed gaily, then quickly grew sober. “And certainly the Tetrarch -should be concerned,” she added, “if the man flouts the Tetrarch’s -authority.” She signaled to Longinus to resume the march. “Let’s ride -down and join his audience. After the boredom of our journey, this -should at least provide a diversion.” - -Antipas shook his head grudgingly but offered no further protest. -“She’ll regret it as soon as she hears him, by the gods,” he muttered to -the centurion as they started. “But I warned her.” - -At the bottom of the slope the group dismounted, and on Longinus’ -summons, soldiers came up to hold the horses. The servants remained -behind with them except for Neaera and Tullia who followed their -mistresses as the Tetrarch’s party quietly slipped around a screening -clump of willows to join the throng about the gaunt and weathered -speaker. To Antipas, John seemed little changed since that day when they -had come upon him at the ford farther up the Jordan. His clothes looked -the same; fleetingly the Tetrarch wondered if the haircloth mantle had -ever been cleaned since he had last seen it. - -Although the Tetrarch’s group had slipped unobtrusively into the rim of -the crowd, Antipas was quickly recognized, and soon a murmur moved -through the multitude and heads began to nod as intent black eyes -shifted from the fiery prophet to study the newly arrived ruler of -Galilee and Peraea. - -“It’s old Herod,” Longinus heard a beak-nosed, thin Jew whisper to the -man beside him. “And that woman, she must be the new wife he’s fetched -from Rome, the one he took away from his brother, and that must be the -brother’s daughter beside her.” Both men turned to stare, then smile. “I -wonder what John will say to that!” one said to the other as they turned -back to peer again at the thundering prophet. - -John, too, had recognized the Tetrarch, Longinus was sure; yet the -prophet made no immediate reference to his presence. Instead, he -continued preaching on the necessity of repentance and on the use of -baptism as a sign of Yahweh’s forgiveness. The man was a powerful -speaker; he had native ability, Longinus immediately perceived, to -command attention and sway his hearers. The crowd listened, entranced, -to his every word; now and then one would step forward and, crying -loudly in repentance, ask for baptism. - -Sometimes a man would interrupt the prophet to seek an answer to some -deeply perplexing problem. But no one yet had spoken openly of the -Tetrarch’s presence among them. - -Then a tall, narrow-faced Jew, unkempt, ill-clothed, evidently a man of -the earth, stepped forward and held up his hand. “This repentance of -which you speak,” he questioned, “is it necessary for the rich man in -the same manner as it is for the poor and dispossessed, for the man of -authority as well as for the servant? I ask you, does the measuring rod -measure the same for all men, or is there one rule for one man and -another rule for another?” - -“Repentance is necessary for all men, my brother,” John replied calmly. -“The same measuring rod measures for both the man of authority and the -servant who serves him, for both the rich man and the man of earth.” - -John paused. Then slowly his dark eyes moved from the face of his -questioner to that of the Tetrarch. “The same measuring rod measures for -the Tetrarch of Galilee, my brother, that measures for you, and it is -the same for even the lowliest servant in that iniquitous marble pile -above the graveyard in Tiberias!” The prophet’s eyes were blazing now, -and he raised his gaunt, sun-bronzed arm to point a lean forefinger -directly at Herod Antipas. “Repent, O Tetrarch, repent!” His voice was -thunderous now, and the finger darted forward like the tongue of a -serpent. “Repent while yet there is time! Repent of the evil you have -done, and seek in true penitence the forgiveness of our God Whom you -have scorned and despised!” - -Antipas stood silent and stared straight ahead, looking as though -suddenly he had been turned to stone. But Herodias, though amazed, had -not been rendered speechless by the torrent of the prophet’s -denunciation. Calmly she turned to her husband. “Do you intend to stand -here and allow this madman to vilify you? Are you going to stand -patiently while...?” - -“And you! You evil woman!” John’s shout interrupted her. Now the angry -hand was pointed directly at her. “You call me a madman,” he said. “Yes, -I am a madman. I am a madman for our God. And I call upon you, too, to -repent. Repent before our God turns His face from you forever. I call -upon both you sinners to fall on your faces and cry out to the God of -Israel, imploring Him for forgiveness.” Then the prophet’s stern eyes -turned again toward the Tetrarch. “Herod, cast this foul woman from you! -Have you not stolen her away from the bed of your brother? You cannot -have her, O Tetrarch! Does not God’s holy law forbid a man from taking -to bed the wife of his living brother in the flesh? Adulterer! Repent! -And you, evil woman, you adulteress”—John’s eyes were fiery now with a -wild zeal as he faced Herodias, whose flushed cheeks and lips drawn into -thin lines revealed her fury—“neither shall you have him! Get you back -to the bed you have deserted, if the husband you have abandoned has the -grace to forgive and receive you! O Tetrarch”—John lifted his gaunt arms -toward the heavens—“cast her from you before your grievous sinning -brings ruin down upon the land. Send her back to your brother, and -humbly beseech the forgiveness of our God! Repent, O Tetrarch, repent! -Repent!” - -Still Herod Antipas stood staring, unmoving, rooted. - -“By all the great and little gods, Antipas”—Herodias, infuriated, -whirled upon the Tetrarch, grabbed his arm and shook him—“will you stand -there like a statue and permit that fanatic to insult and intimidate you -and your wife before this crowd?” Scornfully she measured him, and her -lips curled with disgust. “Are you indeed the Tetrarch of Galilee, or -are you a frightened mouse?” She stood back, taunting him with her -shrill laugh. - -Her challenging words and her mirthless laughter broke the spell the -prophet had cast. “No, I am not afraid of him,” Antipas replied slowly, -as though he were arguing with himself. “Nor can I any longer permit -this abuse to go unpunished. He has not only vilified your Tetrarch and -his wife”—Antipas was now addressing the crowd rather than Herodias—“but -he has challenged my honor and authority. His words are a call to -insurrection. I can no longer permit the preaching of rebellion.” He -turned to confront Longinus. “Centurion, arrest this man. Have him taken -at once to the Fortress Machaerus and there placed in its dungeon. Order -him held until I pronounce judgment.” - -Without even a glance toward the now silent but calm and seemingly -untroubled prophet of the Wilderness, Herod turned and started along the -gentle rise toward the horses. - - - - - 19 - - -As they approached the southern shore line of the Sea of Galilee, -Longinus sent riders ahead to notify Chuza of the impending arrival of -the Tetrarch and his party at Tiberias. So the steward, with household -servants to handle the baggage, was waiting at the palace gate when the -caravan entered the grounds. - -But Chuza, though he greeted them warmly and with profuse smiles, was -obviously troubled, and Antipas quickly drew the man aside to question -him. “Sire, you will not find the Tetrarchess here to welcome you,” the -steward explained, his tone apologetic and his expression patently -pained. “She has departed from Tiberias. I suggested that she might wish -to delay her leaving, Sire, until your return, but she insisted on going -at once.” - -She had received a message, she told Chuza, that her father, King Aretas -of Arabia Petraea, was desperately ill and that he had summoned her to -his bedside. Although the steward had seen no messengers, he had not -been disposed to question the Tetrarchess. She had prepared for the -journey very quickly. The Centurion Cornelius had provided her with a -detachment of soldiers to escort her to her father’s capital in the -country southeast of the Dead Sea, beyond the Fortress Machaerus; she -had taken with her, in addition, her best raiment and many of her -choicest personal possessions. - -“Then you think that she is not planning to come back to me? Is that -what you’re suggesting, Chuza?” - -“Sire, I am suggesting nothing. I am relating only what I saw and heard. -I have no opinion as to what plans the Tetrarchess....” - -“The Princess Herodias is Tetrarchess now, Chuza,” Antipas interrupted. - -“Indeed, Sire”—Chuza bowed to the Tetrarch and then to Herodias—“the -former Tetrarchess....” - -“But when did she depart, Chuza?” Antipas interrupted again. - -“A week ago, Sire. The escorting soldiers have not yet returned.” - -“Had she heard that I was returning from Rome with a new Tetrarchess?” - -“She said nothing to me about it, Sire, but I am confident that she knew -of the Tetrarch’s marriage. Passengers coming ashore at Ptolemaïs from -the vessel on which you and the Tetrarchess sailed out from Rome brought -to Tiberias word of the new Tetrarchess. I myself heard it, and surely -the report must have come also to her ears here at the palace.” - -“Very well, Chuza; think no more of it.” By now they had entered the -lofty, marble-columned great atrium. A faint smile crossed his heavy -face. “Do you know, I believe she must have suspected all along?” He -turned to Herodias. “By all the gods, my dear, she has made our course -all the easier.” - -Longinus declined the invitation of the Tetrarch and Herodias to take a -chamber in the palace during his stay at Tiberias. He had promised -Cornelius that he would be his guest when next he came to Galilee. -Tempting though the Tetrarch’s invitation had been, Longinus reasoned -that it might be wise to assume that the watched might also be the -watching. - -Besides, Claudia had been assigned an apartment which, the centurion had -observed, looked out upon a broad terrace facing the Sea of Galilee. A -door from Claudia’s bedroom conveniently opened onto the terrace. -Longinus smiled as he reviewed the details of the arrangement. - -The sentry at the palace gate, he also knew, would be a Roman soldier. - - - - - 20 - - -Cornelius shook his head solemnly. “Herod will regret it. Arresting the -prophet was unwise, Longinus.” - -“But the fellow is an insurrectionist, Cornelius; certainly it can’t be -denied that he’s been inciting rebellion against the Tetrarch’s rule. -You should have heard what he called Antipas and Herodias.” A wry smile -twisted the corners of his mouth. “Of course, just between you and me, I -think he was right. But that doesn’t absolve him from agitating against -the Tetrarch, and in this province, of course, the Tetrarch represents -Rome.” - -“But I don’t think that the prophet’s a revolutionary,” Cornelius -insisted. “He lambasted the Tetrarch that day we came on him at -Bethabara, too, but he wasn’t challenging Herod’s authority as Tetrarch; -he was denouncing his wickedness as a man and calling upon him as a man -to repent just as others were repenting. There’s a difference, Longinus, -even though it’s hard for us Romans to understand that. We bundle our -religion—if we have any, which few of us do, I suspect—and our imperial -government into one packet. But the Jews keep their religion and their -government, or rather our enforced government over them, separate. And -their religion is predominant. In ordering John imprisoned, therefore, -Herod is allowing the government to invade the Jews’ religious -precincts, just as Pilate did when he had the army’s ensigns flown from -the ramparts of Antonia. He’s likely to find himself in the same sort of -situation that Pilate faced. It will do him no good; John at Machaerus -will likely have more power over the people than he would have had if -Herod had left him unmolested.” He glanced quizzically toward his -friend. “Don’t you think so?” - -“I’ve never thought of it. Nor do I care, by the gods, what becomes of -that Wilderness fellow, or....” He paused and glanced about. - -“There’s no one to hear us.” - -Nor was there. From the early evening meal, eaten in the stuffiness of -the garrison’s mess hall at a table with the other officers, Cornelius -had brought his guest to the flat roof. Up here they would escape the -heat and the heavy odors of food and wine and sweating soldiers and at -the same time catch any vagrant breeze that might be stirring from the -sea. Nor would there be any ears to overhear. - -“I was going to say that I cared little what happened to him or Antipas -... or, by great Jove, even Pontius Pilate.” - -“Both Herod and Pilate have blundered. And I’m sure Sejanus will be -hearing about it; that is, if he hasn’t heard of it already.” - -Longinus nodded, then casually changed the subject. “By the way,” he -commented, “that reminds me; what ever became of that carpenter you said -the desert preacher hailed as the Jews’ Messiah? Has he begun yet the -task of wrecking the Roman Empire with his hammer and chisels?” - -“It’s just possible that he has, though not with any hammer and chisel.” -His smile was enigmatic. “Certainly the Empire, if I understand him, -isn’t built on any plan that he approves.” - -“By all the gods, Cornelius!” Longinus, who had been sprawled in his -chair with his feet propped on the low rampart, sat up with a start. -“What do you mean?” - -Cornelius held up his hand. “Now wait,” he said calmly. “There’s nothing -to be alarmed about. You won’t need to report to Sejanus about the -carpenter. But since I saw you last he has gained a great following, -even among some of the more influential people. You remember that -beautiful woman Herod took with him to Jerusalem, the one called Mary of -Magdala?” - -“Who could forget her?” - -“I agree. Well, she’s a disciple of the carpenter now, and a different -woman, they say; she’s forsworn the Tetrarch’s bedchamber.” - -“Maybe”—Longinus grinned—“that’s because Herodias has moved in.” - -“Could be; I don’t know. But the report is that she’s given up all her -amatory pursuits in order to follow him. All up and down the seaside, in -fact, the people are swarming to hear him and beseech his help.” - -“But insurrection, Cornelius....” - -“Oh, it isn’t that, Longinus. The Galilean isn’t concerned with the -government, as I understand his teachings, though I’ve seen little of -him myself; I get my information from some of the Jews in the synagogue -at Capernaum”—he smiled—“who secretly, I suspect, are followers of the -man, though many others among the Jews are hostile. I think he wants to -change people as individuals, not their governments; he wants to help -them. I’m sure he’s never given any thought to fomenting rebellion -against Rome.” - -Longinus relaxed and sat back. “Then he’s just another of these -religious fanatics, isn’t he? Well, I’m relieved to hear that, though -Palestine seems to have more than its share of these charlatans.” - -“Charlatan? I wouldn’t say that. Let me tell you a story, and then you -can deduce what you wish. It happened only a few weeks ago. When you see -Chuza, Herod’s steward....” - -“I saw him today.” - -“When you see him again, ask him to tell you what happened to his son. -Everybody in this part of the country has heard about it; the news swept -through Galilee like flames across a parched grassland.” - -“Well, by the gods, Cornelius, what did happen?” - -“Chuza’s young son had come down with a fever. In this low country along -the lakeside, you know, fevers are pretty common, but they’re not often -dangerous. So Chuza and Joanna—she’s his wife—weren’t alarmed at first. -But when days passed and the boy didn’t improve—in fact, his condition -grew worse—they became concerned. One physician after another was called -in, and they exhausted all the treatments they knew how to give. But the -child was failing fast, and Chuza and Joanna were frantic; it looked as -though their son wouldn’t live much longer. The fever was consuming him. -What could they do? Where could they get help? - -“It happened that on the last day, when it appeared that the boy was -about to die, a Jewish fisherman who had occasionally been supplying the -palace came to Chuza. He and his brother and two other brothers with -whom he frequently fished had made a heavy catch, and this Simon had -come to inquire if Chuza would buy a mess for the Tetrarch’s household. - -“But a servant came to the door and told him his master could not -discuss business; the steward’s son, he explained, was dying. - -“‘In that case, I must see him,’ the fisherman said to the servant. ‘I -can tell him how his son’s life may be saved.’ - -“But the servant told him that the physicians had despaired of saving -the child and that the parents were momentarily awaiting his death. He -ordered Simon to leave. - -“The fisherman, a headstrong fellow, insisted, however, on being shown -into the chamberlain’s presence, and the argument grew so loud that -Chuza heard and came out to discover what was taking place. The -fisherman Simon then told the Tetrarch’s steward of the Galilean -carpenter’s amazing ability to effect miraculous cures, and he suggested -that a servant be sent on horseback to find this young man, whom Simon -referred to as ‘the Master.’ ‘And when the servant finds him,’ he said -‘have him bring the Master here, and he will heal your son.’ - -“Of course Chuza protested,” Cornelius continued, “that skilled -physicians had been unable to cure the child. ‘Only try the Master,’ -Simon then implored him. ‘Only have faith in him and ask him to heal -your son, and he will heal him.’ - -“And suddenly the thought came to Chuza that surely he had nothing to -lose by seeking out the Galilean mystic. The child was already on the -verge of death; certainly this Jesus ben Joseph, whatever he might do, -wouldn’t further endanger the boy’s life. So he asked Simon where his -master might be found and whether he would come at once to his son’s -bedside. - -“The Galilean was visiting friends at Cana, a village a few miles west -of the little sea. And Simon assured Chuza that he would come. - -“So Chuza decided to seek the carpenter’s aid. But he sent no servant -for him. Instead, he had three horses saddled, one for Simon, one for -himself, and one for this Jesus ben Joseph. - -“‘As we rode westward toward Cana,’ Chuza told me, ‘I felt a growing -hope that the strange Galilean might really be able to restore my son to -health, and I was possessed by an overpowering urge to find the man. -Soon Simon and I were racing along the dusty road. When we reached Cana -and found the house, we discovered this Jesus seated with his friends at -the noonday meal.’” - -Cornelius got up from his chair, sat down again on the rampart, and -looked out toward a small fleet of fishing boats coming in to shore with -the day’s catch. - -“By the gods,” Longinus asked, “what happened then? Go on; it’s a good -story.” - -“When he looked into the understanding eyes of the young man from -Nazareth, Chuza told me, a strange warmth, not physical warmth from the -hard riding but a sense of eased tension, of peace, perhaps, something -he said he couldn’t describe to me and didn’t entirely understand -himself, took possession of him. He knew then, he was utterly certain, -he said, that the young man smiling at him had the power to heal his -son, if he could but get him to Tiberias in time!” - -Once more Cornelius paused in his recital to study a fishing boat -unloading a heavy catch. Then he resumed the narrative. - -“Chuza said he didn’t remember what he said to the man, except that he -blurted out his plea for help and begged the stranger to return with him -to the boy’s bedside. He and his wife loved their son so much, he -pleaded, and the little fellow was dying. If only the carpenter would -intervene to save him, he knew the child’s life would be spared. - -“Then,” Cornelius went on, “the Nazareth carpenter said a strange thing. -He turned his intent, kindly gaze from Chuza to glance at those at the -table with him. ‘Always you must have signs and wonders,’ he said. -‘Can’t you believe without actually seeing these things done before your -eyes?’ - -“Chuza didn’t understand the man’s words, but he didn’t try to find out -what they meant. His son was dying, his need was desperate. Once more he -begged the carpenter for his help. ‘O, sir, my boy is dying,’ he -pleaded; ‘he won’t last out the day unless you go to him. Won’t you -leave with us now, sir, and restore him?’” - -Cornelius paused again. Longinus, his forehead creased in heavy -concentration, seemed absorbed in the doings of several fishermen down -at the water’s edge as they struggled with a heavy net. But he turned -quickly to confront his friend. “Pluto blast you, Cornelius! Why do you -keep stopping? Did the carpenter return with him or didn’t he?” - -“No, he didn’t. He laid his hand on Chuza’s shoulder. ‘Return to your -son,’ he said. ‘The fever has left him. He has been restored.’” - -“And I suppose when Chuza and the fisherman got back, they found that -the boy’s fever had actually broken?” - -“Yes, he was fully recovered. And when Chuza asked Joanna what time it -was when the fever broke, she said it was the seventh hour, which was -exactly when the carpenter had told Chuza that the boy had been -restored.” Cornelius smiled and stood up. “That’s the story, Centurion -... Chuza’s story, not mine. What do you make of it?” - -“A good story, and ably told by you. I’d call it an entertaining account -of a remarkable coincidence.” - -“Only a coincidence?” - -“What else could it be? Surely you don’t believe that this carpenter -fellow, without even going to the sick boy, drove out the fever? You -know that fever victims either get well or die and that once the fever -reaches a certain point, it goes one way or the other; it’s either death -or a very rapid recovery, and the odds are about the same.” He shrugged -his shoulders. “After hearing Chuza’s story the carpenter probably -calculated it was time for the fever to break, and he simply gambled on -the outcome.” Then he was suddenly serious, his eyes questioning. -“Cornelius, don’t tell me you believe the carpenter actually cured the -boy?” - -“I don’t know, Longinus. But I’ll say this: I don’t disbelieve it. And I -do know that the boy is alive and well today.” Cornelius stood up and -stretched. “After all, to Chuza and Joanna that’s the important thing. -When you see Chuza, you might ask him what he thinks of the Galilean.” - -“If that carpenter did cure the boy in the manner you described, -Cornelius, then he’s bound to be a god. And would a carpenter be a god, -and a Galilean carpenter, at that? To me the whole idea is preposterous. -But I’m just a Roman soldier; I haven’t been exposed, like you, to these -eastern workers of magic.” - -“This Jesus is no magician. In fact, he seems reluctant to perform -these—what did he call them—‘signs and wonders.’ But the sick and the -crippled continually besiege him to heal them, and his sympathies for -the unfortunate appear to be boundless.” Cornelius sat down again on the -parapet. “Tell me, do you remember that day we were sailing down the -Tiber, standing at the ‘Palmyra’s’ rail talking about the various gods, -and you said that you could never comprehend a spirit god, something -that was nothing, you said, a being without a body?” - -“Yes, and I still feel that way.” - -“But what about a god that does have a body, a god-man? If a god should -have a physical body and be in every physical respect like a man, would -that make sense to you? Could you comprehend such a god?” - -“By Jove, Cornelius, you’ve been out here with these Jews for much too -long. You’ve been listening to too much prattle about their Yahweh. A -god without a body, a body that houses a god. Bah! I put no credence in -any of these notions. As for that carpenter, I’d say he’s another -Wilderness preacher, not as fanatical perhaps, not as desert-parched and -smelling of dried sweat as John, but certainly no god—whatever a god is, -if there is such a thing, which I most seriously doubt. A carpenter from -Nazareth, that hillside cluster of huts! Cornelius, I’ve been to -Nazareth, as I’m sure you have. I ask you, would a god choose Nazareth -to come from?” He stood up. “Nevertheless, the story you told was -entertaining. Maybe to some it would be convincing. To me, though....” -He shook his head slowly. Then suddenly a wide grin lighted his grim -countenance. “How is it that you and I inevitably get around sooner or -later to a discussion of the gods? And where do we invariably end? -Nowhere. Talk, that’s all. And talk is all it can ever be, isn’t it? -It’s all too nebulous, intangible....” - -“But, Longinus, if this all-powerful, all-wise, all-good god that old -Pheidias envisioned, this supreme one god, in order to communicate with -his earthly creatures”—Cornelius held up his hand to stop Longinus, who -had been about to interrupt—“should decide to take the form of a man, an -ordinary man....” - -“By all the small and great gods,” Longinus did interrupt, “do you think -then that he would choose to be a carpenter from Nazareth?” - -Cornelius stared at the fishing boats, now pulled up on the beach; the -lengthening shadows had already begun to obscure them. “I wonder,” he -said. - - - - - 21 - - -Herod Antipas was in a bad mood; he said little and appeared preoccupied -during the meal. When they had finished he announced that he planned to -spend the remainder of the evening conferring with his ministers. “I’ve -been out of the country for a long time,” he explained casually. “I -suspect there will be many trying problems awaiting consideration.” - -When the Tetrarch withdrew from the lofty dining chamber, Herodias had -servants place couches at the eastern edge of the terrace beside the -bordering balustrade of faintly rose-hued marble, and with Neaera and -Tullia hovering discreetly near them, the new Tetrarchess and her guest -lay back comfortably to relax after the heavy meal. Out here it was -cooler than it had been in the great chamber, for the white marble -palace of Herod Antipas had been built on an upflung spit of land that -pushed out like a flattened giant thumb into the Sea of Galilee, and -whenever there was a breeze from off the water it swept unobstructed -across the spacious terrace. - -This terrace had been built seaward from an immense glass-covered -peristylium, paved with tiny marble blocks in colors that had been laid -to form an intricate but pleasing mosaic pattern and alive with -fountains, flowers, and luxuriant tropical plants. Predominantly Roman -in architecture, decoration, and furnishings, the palace reminded -Claudia of the Procurator’s Palace at Caesarea. “Except that it’s more -pretentious,” she told Herodias. - -“Yes, it is,” Herodias agreed. “Antipas was determined for once to outdo -his father. He had always lived in the shadow of old Herod, and I think -he resented it. But even so, he has never had the ambition or the -courage that his father had.” - -“But surely, Herodias, you don’t see any virtue in your grandfather. -Didn’t he have your grandmother and your father killed?” - -“Yes, and my father’s brother Alexander. No, he was a monster, -particularly in his last years when I think he must have been demented. -But he was an able man, and he had courage. He never would have -permitted that desert fellow to stand there and insult him and his wife, -for example, even if the man had had all the Jews in Galilee at his -side. Nor would he have yielded, as your Pilate did, to those Jews at -Caesarea. He would have had them run through with swords and would have -roared with laughter at their agonized dying. But perhaps I offend you.” - -“No, you don’t offend me, my dear. Nor do I defend Pilate. But you must -remember, he has Sejanus to deal with and also my beloved stepfather. -Neither of those pillars of the Empire would have sanctioned the -massacre of thousands of Jews. Pilate does have a difficult role to -play.” - -Herodias smiled and pointed a ringed forefinger. “And are you going to -help him play it, my dear Claudia, or will you...?” She paused and -allowed her question to hang in mid-air. - -“Or will I conspire with Longinus to lead Pilate into making further -wrong moves, thereby getting him recalled and perhaps banished and -permitting me to divorce him and marry Longinus?” Laughing, Claudia sat -up and swung her feet to the floor. “You are so subtle, my dear, so very -subtle.” Now she shook an accusing finger at her hostess. “But tell me, -what will you do when Aretas’ daughter returns to Tiberias and demands -her place as Tetrarchess?” - -“She won’t return; Antipas is sending her a bill of divorcement. Surely -you must know that I would see to that. In fact, I think she left with -her mind made up that she was finished as Tetrarchess. My only -thought—and that isn’t concern—is what old Aretas will do about it.” - -Behind them now the lamps had been lighted in the palace. A brilliant -full moon slowly climbed the sky above the little sea; both women lay -back luxuriously to watch the moon mount higher, and before long their -talk had slowed into silence. Suddenly Herodias realized that she had -become almost senseless. She sat up with a start. - -“By the gods, Claudia, we’re almost asleep!” - -“We’re tired from the journey,” Claudia said, rubbing her eyes. - -“Yes. Maybe we should go to bed. Can I have Neaera bring you something? -Some wine and wafers, fruit, or a glass of hot milk?” - -“No, not a thing. I’m still stuffed from the wonderful dinner. I only -want to get to bed and to sleep. I am really quite tired.” - -“You must be indeed.” Her smile, Claudia saw plainly in the brightness -of the full moon, was positively devilish. It was impossible to mistake -its meaning. - -“Oh, that,” she laughed, then added, “but surely you heard him tell the -Tetrarch he would spend the night with Cornelius?” - -“Yes, I heard him tell the Tetrarch.” She stood up. “Let’s go to bed.” -They crossed the terrace and entered the palace. “I’ll see you to your -chamber,” she said. - -An inner room that opened into Claudia’s had been prepared for Tullia. -Herodias glanced quickly around the apartment, then turned to go. At the -door opening onto the corridor she paused. “I hope you will be -comfortable and sleep well.” Her eyes brightened. “You won’t be -disturbed. And you’ll discover”—she swept her hand in an arc to embrace -Claudia’s chamber—“that all your doors have bolts opening from the -inside, including,” she added with a knowing smile, “the one to the -terrace. Good night, Claudia. And, by all the gods”—her dark, wanton -eyes had burst into dancing flames—“I envy you!” - - - - - 22 - - -Claudia sat up in bed, instantly and fully awake. She knew that she had -been dreaming, a confused, wandering, disconnected, senseless sort of -dream, though now with her awakening it had vanished completely, -dissolved into nothing. But the gentle tapping that had been mixed with -the dreaming, had not been a part of it; the tapping at the door to the -terrace was real and repeated and insistent. - -She kicked her feet free of the sheet and swung them to the floor. From -the waist down, as she arose, she stood in the narrow band of -silver-cold moonlight spearing through the tall window behind her to cut -diagonally across the foot of the bed; quickly she stepped into the less -revealing shadows at the doorway. - -“Longinus?” she whispered, her face close to the panel. - -“Yes.” - -“One minute until I can draw the bolt.” - -When he was inside and she was closing and bolting the door, he slipped -his toga off and, stepping past the shaft of moonlight, dropped it on a -chair against the wall near the head of the bed. As he turned around, -she came toward him, her arms outstretched; crossing the bright beam, -her white body stood plainly revealed through the sheerness of the black -gown. - -“Oh, Longinus”—she flung herself into his arms—“I thought you really had -decided to stay with Cornelius.” - -He lifted her to her toes and held her, almost crushingly, against him, -and then he caught her chin and raising her face so that he could look -into her eyes, bent down and kissed her red and warmly eager lips. - -“Didn’t you know,” he asked when he released her after a long while, -“that those words were for Antipas and not you? Didn’t you know that -nothing could possibly keep me from you tonight?” - -Gently, almost carrying her, he led her the two or three steps to the -bed. They sat down beside each other, and he bent forward to unbuckle -his sandals. When he sat up again, she twisted her feet around and -lifted them to the bed, doubled up her knees, and lay with her head and -right shoulder pressed hard against his side. “Are you tired from the -journey and anxious to get to sleep?” she asked, turning her head to -look into his face. - -“Tired maybe, and warm from walking from the Antonia”—he pulled his -tunic open at the throat and to his waist—“but sleepy, no.” He laughed, -but not loudly, for the palace was as quiet as a sepulcher. “Do you -think any man in my present situation could be sleepy?” - -“Yes, by all the gods, I know one.” She sat up and swung her feet to the -floor. “Pontius Pilate.” - -“No, Claudia, he couldn’t be that cold-blooded.” He pulled her to him, -and drew her warm body into the closing circle of his arms. She lifted -her feet again to the bed and slid down into the brightness of the -moonlight. - -“But, I tell you he is, Longinus. All the man ever thinks of is guarding -and extending the powers and authority of the Procuratorship and piling -up Jewish shekels. To him my only attraction is being the Emperor’s -stepdaughter.” - -“Then he’s an even bigger fool than I thought.” Gently he pushed her -chin down to pull her lips slightly apart and, bending over her, crushed -his mouth upon them. - -“Oh, Longinus,” she cried out, when finally, breathing heavily, he -raised his head, “do take me away from him! Do, Longinus, oh, do, do! I -cannot endure him! By all the gods, I simply cannot!” - -“But where would we go?” He looked deeply into her troubled eyes, -luminous even in the shadows. “How could we escape the Emperor and the -Prefect, my dear girl? How could we?” - -“We couldn’t, of course. If we attempted it, they would soon find us, -and Tiberius would do to you what my grandfather did to my poor father. -I know that, Longinus. But it’s so long from one time with you to -another, from one night so quickly passed to the gods only know when -again.” She slipped her hand beneath his tunic and caressingly ran her -fingers across the damp, warm expanse of his chest. “It’s so hard -waiting for these few stolen hours,” she murmured. “Must we be forever -waiting, Longinus?” - -“No, Claudia, no. Pluto burn him! One of these days he’ll go too far -with the Emperor and Sejanus. But we’ve got to give him time to be -caught in his own trap. Then when he’s ruined himself, the Emperor will -permit you to divorce him. But in the meantime, we must steal all the -hours we can”—his words were blurred as he buried his face in her -lustrous, fragrant hair—“and not be too concerned with Pilate or our -future.” They remained silent side by side for a while, then Longinus -raised his head. Claudia lay stretched out full length upon the bed, and -from the waist down now her scarcely concealed body came within the -rapidly widening band of moonlight. “We mustn’t try to anticipate -things,” he said quietly. “We must seize the opportunities as they come. -Carpe diem, that’s all.” He bent lower to look into her eyes. “More to -the point, let’s enjoy the night while we have it.” - -He stood up quickly and in the shadows hastily stripped off his clothes. - - - - - 23 - - -As he drifted up slowly out of the depths of slumber he fancied he was -hearing the early cockcrow from Castra Praetoria; surely he was sharing -Claudia’s bed in her apartment in the Imperial Palace, for he could -smell her perfume, he could feel the satiny texture of her hair spread -fan-like across his chest. - -The trumpet was insistent. He would have to open his eyes. He twisted up -on his elbow and squinted toward the window; light sifting into the -chamber revealed the crumpled sheer nightgown dropped across his clothes -on the chair near the bed. Looking down, he studied Claudia’s sleeping -face—rouge-smeared, half-open mouth, cheeks, forehead, and even her neck -splotched with the smudged prints of his lips from her own lipstick. - -He glanced around the room again; no, this time he was not in Rome, and -the trumpet call came only from the post headquarters in Tiberias. This -time there was no threat of immediate separation. Immensely relieved, he -pulled up the sheet that had fallen away and snuggled back down beside -her. - -“Must you be going so soon?” she asked sleepily, for his movement had -aroused her. “Must you always be leaving me?” - -“That’s the cockcrow at Castra Praetoria, and I have early duty,” he -said. “Maybe this morning I’ll be summoned before the Prefect.” - -“You aren’t deceiving me. The Prefect is in Rome, and we are in -Tiberias,” she replied. “And you have no morning duty at the post’s -quarters.” Smiling, she added, “I’m not that sleepy, Centurion.” She -slid forward and sat up, then just as quickly slipped back beneath the -protecting sheet. “I forgot,” she said, grinning. “But I’m so glad that -you don’t have to leave now.” - -“But I’ll have to be going soon,” he declared. “I’d like to get away -before the palace is too much astir.” - -“But why, Longinus? Must you sneak away as though you were a thieving -intruder? Don’t you know that Herodias was expecting you? She even -admitted that she was envious of me; I’m sure she was anticipating a far -less interesting evening with Antipas.” She paused, and her eyes -widened. “Surely you aren’t afraid of his knowing ... about us?” - -“You know I’m not afraid of the Tetrarch’s knowing”—his tone was gently -scolding—“or, by the gods, of Pontius Pilate’s.” - -“Then could it be Cornelius?” Now she was teasing. “But doesn’t he know? -Surely....” - -“Of course,” he interrupted. “He knew last night I was coming here. He -gave me the password for the sentry at the palace gate.” - -“But did he know you were going to be spending the night ... with me?” - -“I didn’t tell him that. But I’m sure that anybody with the intelligence -of a centurion would arrive at such a conclusion.” He was grinning. -“Wouldn’t you think so?” - -“Yes. But maybe he doesn’t approve, now that he’s become so interested -in the Jews’ religion. And judging by that desert fanatic’s tirade -against Herodias and Antipas, even the most innocent adultery is frowned -upon by these Jewish religionists.” - -“Whatever he may think about it, Cornelius knows very well that what you -and I do is none of his business, and I’m sure he won’t try to make it -his affair.” - -“Then I’m the one.” Her smeared lips were pushed out in a feigned pout. -“You’re bored with me. I know, you’re just trying to get rid....” - -“Silly girl.” He pulled her close, for she had coquettishly twisted -away. “Did I say I was leaving right now?” - - - - - 24 - - -Two soldiers from his own century at Caesarea who had ridden into -Tiberias during the night were awaiting Longinus when he returned to the -garrison headquarters. They had been sent by Sergius Paulus with a -message from the Prefect Sejanus. A note from the Prefect had been -attached to the carefully sealed message, emphasizing the importance of -the communication and ordering Sergius Paulus, should Longinus not be in -Caesarea on its arrival, to have it dispatched to him wherever he might -be and as speedily as possible. - -The message from Sejanus had arrived on an Alexandrian grain ship that -had sailed into the harbor at Caesarea several days after Herod Antipas -and his new wife, with their party and their guest, the Procurator’s -wife, had departed for Jerusalem on their way to Tiberias. The cohort -commander had dispatched the two horsemen at once in the hope that they -might overtake the centurion before Herod’s party had started on the -journey up the Jordan Valley toward the Galilean capital. But the -caravan had been two days on the way before the horseman rode into -Jerusalem; from there they had started almost immediately for Tiberias. - -Quickly and with considerable apprehension Longinus broke the seals. Why -was the message so urgent? What could have happened? He knew that -Sejanus was not replying to the report he himself had dispatched to the -Prefect by the hand of the “Actium’s” captain; that vessel had probably -not even reached Rome yet. - -Longinus hurriedly scanned the message; then, relieved, he read it again -more slowly. The Prefect was summoning him to return to Rome to report -in detail on the situation in Judaea and Galilee. But first he was to go -immediately to Senator Piso’s glassworks in Phoenicia. There he would -receive a package which he would then convey to Rome. - -The package would be highly valuable, the Prefect warned; it would -contain a large sum of money, revenue from sales of glassware, and he -was to exercise every precaution in seeing to it that he got it to Rome -intact. Impress as many soldiers as he thought necessary to serve as -guards while the package was being transported from the glass plant to -the ship that would bring it to Rome, the Prefect ordered; take no risk -of being waylaid by robbers or some band of zealots. He suggested that -to minimize this danger, the centurion should go aboard ship at Tyre, -the seaport nearest the plant. - -Longinus explained to the two soldiers who had brought him the message -that he was being ordered to Rome by the Prefect Sejanus and instructed -them to bear to Sergius Paulus a message he would write. In this note he -informed the cohort commander of the assignment Sejanus had given him to -come to Rome, although he made no mention of the money he would be -delivering. He added that the Prefect had given him no details of the -new assignment; he would write later from Rome. When he finished writing -the communication, Longinus dismissed the two to return with it to -Caesarea. - -Cornelius had been aware of the arrival of the two men sent by Sergius -Paulus; Longinus told him what the Prefect’s instructions had been. - -“Cornelius, I want you to pick a small detachment from your century to -go with me to Phoenicia for the package and then on over to Tyre,” he -said. “If by any chance I should let that money be stolen....” He -shrugged and drew his fingers across his throat. “I suspect a large -portion of it, if not all, is destined to find its way into the -Prefect’s private coffers.” - -Cornelius agreed to accompany him. His men would leave early on the -morrow and meet the two centurions at the home of Cornelius at Capernaum -where they would spend the evening. From there the party would start -northwestward for the senator’s glassworks in Phoenicia. - -“And now,” said Cornelius when they had made the arrangements, “you’ll -be wanting to return to the palace; after today it may be a long time -before you see Claudia again.” - -Only last night he and Claudia had talked of how they might remain in -Tiberias for perhaps two weeks; he had even considered taking her with -him on a hurried visit to the glassworks, which he had not inspected for -the last several months. And they would manage to spend every evening -together, to be with each other every night through. - -“Oh, Longinus, let me go with you to Rome! Take me, please,” she pleaded -an hour later as they sat on the terrace outside her bedchamber. “Do you -dare, Longinus? Or, should I say, do we dare?” - -“No,” he said, “though by all the gods, I wish we did.” He shook his -head slowly. “No, Claudia, we mustn’t attempt it. You might be able to -hide from the Prefect and the Emperor. But not for long. Pilate would -report your disappearance—he would have to for his own protection—and -immediately Sejanus would suspect me. He might even think you and I were -plotting to upset the rule of Tiberius, which would mean, of course, the -overthrow of the Prefect. You would be discovered within a matter of -days. And then in all probability it would be the imperial headsman for -me, and for you ... well, for you it would probably be a fate much like -your mother’s, Pandateria or some other far-off place. And for the -friends who tried to hide you, death, too. You see, Sejanus and the -Emperor married you off to Pilate to get you far away from Rome. They -intend for you to remain away. Until”—he shrugged—“there’s a violent -change in Rome, you must not return.” - -They sat quietly and looked out at the fishing boats plying the sea. - -“I won’t remain long in Rome, I think,” he said after a while. “If the -gods are good, Claudia, it will be only a few months until....” - -“If the gods are good!” she interrupted, harshly. “There are no good -gods, Longinus. There are no gods!” She scowled and looked away. “If -there are, how can they be so perverse?” - -“I don’t dispute it. Call it what you like, gods, fate, chance, -luck....” - -“Ill luck, perversity of fate. Bona Dea, Longinus, if there are gods, -they are evil, and the most evil of all is old Sejanus, may Pluto -transfix him with his white-hot fork! Why must he forever be doing us -ill?” - -“Perhaps, who knows, he may be serving us well in calling me to Rome. It -may lead to the Emperor’s banishing Pilate or, if not that, his removal -from the Procuratorship.” - -“May the gods grant it!” she said fervently. - -“But now, my dear”—he smiled—“there are no gods.” - -They sat for a long time on the sunlit terrace and talked, though they -knew their future was a difficult one to predict. They walked down to -the beach and strolled along the sands; once they paused to sit for a -while on the rotting hull of a half-buried fishing boat. Before the sun -dropped westward behind the palace they climbed the steps and crossed -the esplanade; in the peristylium he said good-by to the Tetrarch and -Herodias. Claudia walked with him back to the terrace, where he quickly -bade her farewell. - -“I’ll see you before many months in Caesarea,” he said and gently -pinched her cheek. He bent down for a last kiss. “Pray the gods for the -winds to bring me quickly ... and with good news. Pray the silly little -no-gods.” - -“I would, if I thought it would bring you back any sooner,” she said. -“I’d even say a prayer—and offer a lamb—to the Jew’s grim Yahweh. But I -have more faith in the charity of the winds themselves.” - -An hour later he and Cornelius set out for Capernaum. The squad from the -Tiberias century that would escort them to the glassworks and then to -the harbor at Tyre had been selected and equipped for the journey; the -soldiers would join the centurions the next morning at the home of -Cornelius. - -As they were nearing the house, Cornelius turned to question his friend. -“Longinus, do you remember Lucian?” - -“Lucian? Your son?” - -“Well, you could probably call him our son, although he’s actually my -slave. He was given me by his father, just before he died, when Lucian -was only three or four years old. He’s the grandson of old Pheidias, the -tutor I was telling you about some time ago.” - -“Yes, I do remember the boy. But he is more like a son than a slave, -isn’t he?” - -“He is. We’re devoted to the boy. We couldn’t love him more, I’m sure, -nor could he love us more, if he were really our own flesh and blood.” - -“But why are you asking me about him?” - -“Well, some time ago I promised Lucian that the next time I went on a -journey I’d take him along. I wonder if you would object to his going -with us up into Phoenicia?” - -“Of course not. Why don’t you take him?” - -“Then I shall. We’ll get an early start in the morning. We ought to be -ready to begin the journey when the detachment arrives from Tiberias.” - -But the next morning Lucian was ill. Perhaps, Cornelius thought, it came -from the great excitement of the anticipated journey. With his palm the -centurion felt the boy’s forehead, cheeks, under his chin. They were -feverish. - - - - - Phoenicia - - - [Illustration: decorative glyph] - - - - - 25 - - -The old man, smoke-blackened and naked except for a frayed and soiled -loincloth, tottered forward and collapsed at their feet. - -“He almost fell into the fire chamber,” explained one of the two young -slaves who had dragged him from the furnace shed. - -A beetle-browed, scowling overseer with a long leather whip came running -from an adjacent section of the sheds. “Get back to your work!” he -shouted, as he slashed viciously at the slaves. The two fled inside; the -burly fellow strode across to the old man on the ground. - -“Water! O Zeus, mercy. Water! Water!” the old slave gasped. - -The overseer raised his whip. “Stand up, you, or by the gods, I’ll cut -you in strips!” he hissed. “Get back to the furnace!” He stood poised to -strike the inert man. - -“Hold!” Cornelius commanded. “Strike him once, and by the great Jove, -you’ll have me to deal with!” Suddenly furious, his eyes blazing, the -centurion stepped forward to confront the overseer. - -“Who, by the gods, are you?” the fellow demanded insolently. “By whose -authority do you interfere with the operation of this plant?” - -“By the great gods, my own, if the centurion”—he glanced coldly toward -Longinus—“is little enough interested to stop you.” - -“Don’t touch him!” Longinus pointed. “And get back to your duties.” - -“And who”—the fellow was glowering, his heavy jaw thrust out—“are you, -by the gods, to be giving me orders?” - -Aroused by the angry words outside the fire chamber, a man rushed from -the near-by furnace-shed office. “Porcius, you insolent, blundering -fool, put down that whip!” he bellowed. “Don’t you know the -centurion”—he gestured toward Longinus—“is the son of Senator Piso, who -owns this plant? And the other one is his friend. Now you get back to -your work!” - -“But first let him get this poor old slave some water.” - -“Yes, Centurion.” He turned fiercely to the overseer. “You heard the -centurion. Go! And bring a cloth, too, to bathe his face.” - -“O Zeus, mercy. Water.” The old man’s plea was hardly a whisper. “Mercy, -O....” - -Longinus pointed. “Water will do him no good now, Cornelius.” - -The wizened, gaunt slave’s eyes, wide-open, were setting in an agonized, -frightened stare; his head was stretched back, and Cornelius, looking -into his blackened and bony face, saw that it was pitted and scarred -from innumerable small burns; the eyebrows and eyelashes were completely -gone, singed away in the intolerable heat of the glass furnaces. - -The overseer returned with the water and a smudged cloth. - -“No need now,” the plant superintendent said. “He’s dead.” - -The overseer nodded. “Shall we....?” He paused. “The usual way?” - -“Not for the moment. Put him over there under the shed. Later, when....” - -“When we have left, eh?” Cornelius was pointedly sarcastic. “What is the -usual way?” - -The superintendent hesitated. - -“I’ll tell him, Lucius,” Longinus spoke out unconcernedly. “Usually, -Cornelius, they are thrown into the furnaces they have been tending, -provided, of course, that the heat is so intense that such disposition -of the cadaver will not endanger the mixture in the glassmaking. -Oftentimes they end up over there, in the deserted area behind that sand -dune, with the vultures picking their ill-padded bones. But every now -and then, when they do drag one over there, particularly if the breeze -is from the land, they shovel a bit of sand over him.” He shrugged and -thrust out his hands solemnly. “Of course, doing it that way provides a -more pleasant atmosphere for working.” - -Cornelius appeared not to have heard his friend’s poor attempt at humor. -He stared at the dead slave on the ground and slowly shook his head. “He -was calling upon Zeus, a Greek. He might have been another Pheidias.” He -shook his head ruefully. “Slaves both, but what a difference in their -lots.” - -“And what is the difference?” Longinus demanded. “They’re both dead. -Your old tutor was put away honorably in a tomb, no doubt. But when this -fellow’s carcass has become a handful of ashes or is completely -dissolved into the sand and water and sea winds, won’t they both be gone -to nothingness, ended without a trace?” - -“They’re both dead, yes. But gone to nothingness, I can’t say. It might -be that their spirits, their souls....” - -“Oh, come now, Cornelius.” Longinus turned to the plant superintendent, -“My friend has been too long in Palestine,” he commented wryly. “He has -come to believe what those Jews believe, that the death of a man is not -his end. In other words”—he pointed to the stiffened slave now being -borne to the shed—“that that fellow’s soul, whatever a soul is—if there -is such a thing, which I find it impossible to believe—is floating -around somewhere in a world filled with other disembodied beings.” - -“If you will excuse me, sir,” the manager said, evading comment, “I have -some work....” - -“Go ahead, Lucius. We will be leaving early tomorrow for Tyre. -Everything, you say, is ready?” - -“Everything, the reports, the revenue, everything, sir.” - -Earlier Longinus had shown Cornelius through the various departments of -the glassmaking plant, and Cornelius had marveled at the skill of the -glassblowers, slaves whose lot was incomparably more fortunate, he saw, -than that of those who fired the roaring furnaces. When he had remarked -about this to Longinus, his host had observed casually that the blowers -were valuable property, while the laborers in the furnace chambers were -easily replaced when after a few weeks or months they literally burned -themselves out. The two had just completed their tour when the old Greek -was dragged out to die before them. - -From the plant they strolled toward the beach some two hundred paces -below it. “I can’t get that slave out of my mind,” Cornelius said, as -they sat in the bow of a small boat that had been pulled up on the -sands. “By all the gods, I thought those on the docks of the Emporium -were having a hard time, but these slaves that fire your glass -furnaces”—he grimaced—“Jupiter pity them. Certainly nobody else does.” - -“But if we are to have beautiful glass in the mansions of Rome, or at -the Tetrarch’s Palace, or the Procurator’s at Caesarea, or in countless -other great places of the wealthy and the privileged, if revenue from -the glass factories is to continue flowing into the coffers of the -Empire and the Prefect, then, Cornelius, the furnaces must be stoked and -the molten glass must be blown. So”—he shrugged—“slaves will die and be -replaced. But remember, Cornelius, they are slaves, and slaves are easy -to come by; fresh ones are always being sent out here by Sejanus. And we -only put those of least value into the furnace chambers.” - -“So, Longinus, the value of a slave is to be measured in direct -proportion to the value of the merchandise—in your case, glassware—he is -able to produce? And when tomorrow you leave for Rome with the profits -made from your glassware, you will be carrying the lives of many slaves -in your package, won’t you? And when at the markets of Rome and Antioch -and Alexandria you sell those beautiful goblets with their slender, -rose-tinted stems, you will know that you are selling glass colored with -the lifeblood of men such as that old Greek, that slave who perhaps by -now has been consumed in the very furnace that exacted his life? Isn’t -that true?” - -“Cornelius, you’re a good soldier, but you’re in the wrong profession.” -Longinus leaned forward and cracked his bronzed knuckles. “You should be -writing poetry or lecturing classes in philosophy, or even”—he paused, -and a grin spread across his face—“be acting as a priest in the Temple -at Jerusalem.” Suddenly the smile was gone. “Of course a slave is -valuable in proportion to what he can produce or the service he can -provide. Aren’t we all valuable in that same proportion? We live awhile, -work, love, hate, die. What do we leave? Only what we have produced. -Everything else is gone, including us. So, in the end, we and the dead -slave are the same ... nothing. But you don’t agree, do you?” - -“I don’t want to agree, Longinus. What you say makes sense. But -something within me says just as emphatically that you are wrong. Yet I -can’t prove it.” Cornelius dug his sandaled heels into the sand at the -bottom of the long abandoned boat. “I keep thinking of the old Greek up -there. I don’t know what life gave him, of course, before some invading -Roman soldiers destroyed his home—if he had a home—certainly his way of -life, and dragged him to Rome, where he simply had the bad luck to fall -into the hands of the Prefect. But there’s no mystery about what life -has offered him since his enslavement. And this man may have been -another Pheidias, Centurion, a man more intelligent, more cultured, a -better man, my friend, than nine out of ten of the equestrians in Rome. -Obviously, then, life has been unfair to him. And you say he is -finished, done for, nothing. You say there will never be any chance of -his getting a better throw of the dice.” - -“Exactly. And throw of the dice is right, too. He shook them in the cup -and rolled them, and they rolled wrong; we rolled ours, and they stopped -with the right numbers up. That’s all there is to it. Fate, chance, -luck, call it what you will. It’s a few years or many, a good life or -one of pain ... and then nothing. Isn’t it just that simple, Cornelius? -How else could it possibly be? Isn’t any other idea simply -superstition?” Longinus leaned over and picked up a small shell. “Look -at this,” he said. “What happened to the mollusk who lived here? Did he -live out his span of life happily, or was he eaten in his prime? And is -his unshelled spirit now swimming about in some sea heaven?” He tossed -the shell into the surf. “That old slave up there, I maintain, is just -as dead and gone—or will be when his corpse is disposed of—as the -mollusk who once inhabited that shell. And both of them are gone for -good.” - -“Then you put men and mollusks in the same category?” - -“Yes, as far as having immortal spirits is concerned. But you don’t, -Centurion; you hold with your Pharisee friends—it’s the Pharisees who -believe in immortality, isn’t it—that man is a different sort of animal -in that he survives in a spirit world....” - -“I’d like to; I want to. It’s a damnably unfair world if he doesn’t.” - -“And it’s just as unfair if he does. Look.” Longinus leaned forward -again. “You say that this all-powerful, all-wise, all-good god, this -Yahweh, will see to it that in the next world, the spirit world, that -old slave up there will get justice. But I insist that such a god does -not exist; if he did, as I argued that day we were sailing down the -Tiber, you remember, he wouldn’t permit such unfairness and injustice in -this present life. Isn’t that a logical contention, Cornelius? How can a -good god, I ask you again, decree, or permit, so much evil?” - -“I don’t know,” Cornelius replied. “I’m no nearer an answer to your -question now than I was that other day. But I am confident that if this -god exists—and I believe he does, Longinus; in fact I’m even stronger -now in that belief than I was then—he does not decree evil, he simply -permits evil men sometimes to rule in the affairs of this earthly, -physical life. It may be that he doesn’t want to restrict man’s freedom. -Do you see? That wouldn’t mean he approves of the evil acts of men.” - -Longinus slowly shook his head. “No, Cornelius, I don’t see. Your -argument seems completely fatuous to me. I cannot comprehend an -all-powerful, good god who would permit men to do one another evil. I am -convinced that the fact that the world is filled with men who are unjust -and cruel and evil indisputably proves that no such god exists.” - -“And I would answer that it is strong evidence but not indisputable -proof.” For a long moment Cornelius stared out in the direction of a -merchant ship sailing southward toward towering Mount Carmel. “You see, -Longinus,” he said, turning to face his companion, “we have so little -information on which to base an opinion. If there is such a god—if there -is, remember—how can we even comprehend his nature, what he is like, -unless?...” He paused and looked back to the sea. - -“Unless?” - -“Unless someone reveals him to us, interprets him to men, shows his -works and thoughts....” - -“The Jewish Messiah, eh? The carpenter who is about to overthrow Rome?” - -“I don’t think he’s ever indicated that he was seeking to overthrow -Rome. I think that idea has come down from the old Jewish prophets, who -foresaw a great political and military savior of their land. Several -times I’ve been in the crowds listening to him talking, and so far as I -could tell, he was only trying to explain to the people the nature of -this god whom he refers to as his father. He was attempting to interpret -this Yahweh to them sometimes even to the extent of utilizing some of -this father god’s power. That’s apparently what he did when he restored -Chuza’s son.” - -“You mean he was clever enough to figure out when nature would do the -restoring. But we won’t go into that again.” Longinus twisted around in -the boat and stood up. “No, my friend, I insist that your reasoning is -not sound, that you have been overcome by this eastern mysticism which -seems to fill the very air out here.” He clapped his hand on Cornelius’ -shoulder; his friend had risen with him. “Centurion, come with me to -Rome; I suspect that you need to be indoctrinated again in the ways of -modern thought.” - -“I wish I could go with you.” Cornelius stepped from the boat and kicked -the sand from his sandals. “But sometimes I wonder just what sort of -thinking could properly be termed modern.” - -They walked back to the inn to await the loading of the ship on which -Longinus would sail for the capital. No further mention was made of the -Roman gods, the Greek gods, Yahweh, or the Galilean carpenter. And early -in the forenoon the next day the vessel spread its sails for Rome. Two -hours later Cornelius and his men started on their return to Tiberias. - - - - - 26 - - -One of the household servants was waiting for Cornelius when he returned -to the garrison’s quarters at Tiberias. - -“Centurion, Lucian is desperately ill,” he reported. “In the last few -days he has developed a palsy. Your wife bade me tell you that she fears -him near death. You must come back with me, sir; she’s greatly -frightened and in much distress about the boy.” - -“But the physicians? Haven’t they been able to help him?” - -The man shook his head. “She has had them all with him, sir, all she -could find in this region, and they have done what they could; but the -paralysis has spread, and his fever does not abate. All their efforts -have been useless. She prays that you hurry, sir.” - -As fast as their horses could take them the two raced toward Capernaum. -When Cornelius entered the house, his wife rushed to him and fell into -his arms. “Oh, I thought you would never get here,” she cried. “Lucian -is near death, I know; I don’t see how he can live much longer. And the -physicians have despaired of saving him.” - -“But there must be something we can do,” he said, as he turned toward -the sick boy’s chamber. “Are there no other physicians we could call?” - -“None,” she said. “And the paralysis seems to be growing worse. He is -deathly ill, Cornelius. Oh, by all the gods, if there were -something....” - -“‘By all the gods.’ The carpenter! Didn’t he restore Chuza’s son? And -though Lucian is a slave, isn’t he just as much a son to us? Wouldn’t -the carpenter just as willingly restore a slave boy, even of a Roman -soldier?” He had said the words aloud, but they had been addressed more -to himself than to his wife. - -He turned smiling, to face her. “Do you remember how that young -carpenter of Nazareth healed the son of Herod’s chamberlain? Don’t you -think...?” - -“But he’s a Jew, Cornelius, and we are Romans.” - -“No matter.” He turned to the servant who had gone to Tiberias in search -of him. “Get me a fresh horse, and quickly!” he ordered. “I’m going out -to find that carpenter!” - -A few minutes later he stopped to inquire of a shopkeeper if the man had -seen the young Nazarene rabbi. “Has he been around today?” Cornelius -asked. “Can you tell me how to find him?” - -“He passed here this morning,” the shopkeeper answered, “with Simon and -the Zebedees and some of those others who are usually with him. They -went out the gate in the western wall, and judging by the poor trade -I’ve had all day, the whole city’s gone out after them. I hear the -carpenter’s been speaking to them from the side of that little mountain -over there.” With his head he motioned toward the west. “In all -likelihood you’ll find him there, soldier.” Suddenly his face fell; his -hands shook as he grasped his scraggly beard. “Now wait a minute,” he -sputtered, “this fellow, this Nazarene, he hasn’t run afoul of you -Romans, has he?” - -“No. No, indeed. It’s on a personal mission that I seek him.” Cornelius -smiled reassuringly. “I’m his friend.” - -The shopkeeper looked relieved. “Then if you station yourself at the -western gate, you’ll surely see him as he returns to the city. Or you -might ride out toward the mountain, soldier.” - -Cornelius rode on through the gate. He was halfway to the little -eminence in the plain west of the city when he began to meet the throng -returning. Soon he spotted the rabbi walking in the company of the -Capernaum fishermen. Boldly he rode up to them and dismounted. - -The men with Jesus formed a circle about him. - -“I am unarmed, and I intend no one harm,” Cornelius said, holding out -his hands. “I am seeking the rabbi of Nazareth.” - -Jesus stepped forward and held up his staff in salute. His brown eyes -were warmly bright. Cornelius, closer to him than he had ever been -before, saw sparkling in the beads of perspiration rolling down his -bronzed smooth forehead the long rays of the setting sun. He saw them, -too, in the beads clinging to the thick mat of reddish-brown hair on the -carpenter’s chest, for in the sultry stillness of the dying day, Jesus -had thrown open his robe half way to his rope-belted waist. - -“What would you have of me, my brother?” he asked the centurion. - -“Sir, I pray you to restore my little servant boy whom I greatly love; I -fear he is near death of a palsy. If, sir, you would but say the -word....” He paused, suddenly hesitant. - -The rabbi reached out and with strong brown fingers grasped the -centurion’s arm. “I will go with you and restore the boy,” he said -gently. “Show me to your house.” - -“But, sir, I am a Roman soldier”—a feeling of embarrassment, deep -humility, strange to the centurion, possessed him as he looked into the -face of the young rabbi—“and unworthy that you should enter my house. -But if you would only command that my little servant boy be healed, -while we stand here, sir, then I know that he would be restored to -health.” He smiled, weakly, he thought. “You see, sir, I understand -authority, for I am a centurion and when I give a command, it is -obeyed.” - -For an instant the rabbi said nothing, but his warm eyes lighted with a -rapture plain to see. He turned to his friends. “Nowhere in Israel have -I seen such faith. I tell you that many will come from the east and the -west and with our fathers Abraham and Isaac and Jacob sit down in the -Kingdom of Heaven. But many of the chosen likewise will be cast out, and -there will be great wailing and mourning, for their faith shall not be -as the faith of this Roman.” - -Then he turned again to confront the centurion, and Cornelius saw that -his face was radiant. “You may go on your way, my brother,” he said. “As -you have believed that it might be done, so has it been accomplished. -Return in peace to the little boy.” - -“Oh, sir....” But the centurion’s eyes were blinded with tears, and he -bowed his head, and no words would come. Then he felt a warm hand on his -shoulder and strong fingers once more gently squeezing his arm, then the -fingers released it. When after a moment he looked up, Cornelius saw -that the Nazarene and his friends had resumed walking toward the city -gate. In that same instant Jesus turned and looked over his shoulder, -his face still alight with a glowing happiness, and raised his hand high -in a parting salute. Then he quickly turned eastward again, and the -little group disappeared around the bend. - -Cornelius stood unmoving, his left hand still clutching the bridle rein, -and then he mounted and rode toward the western gate. A few paces ahead -he went around the bend and shortly passed the rabbi and his friends, -who had overtaken several men who evidently had been out with them at -the mountainside; Jesus smiled and once more lifted his hand in friendly -greeting. - -The centurion, reaching the gate, rode through it and toward the center -of the city, where he turned left and followed a cavernous road to the -gate in the southern wall. He was in no hurry as his horse picked its -way along the cobblestones and out upon the coast road southward. His -fright, his sudden hysteria had gone; it had vanished completely as he -had looked into the eyes of the young rabbi. Cornelius knew that Lucian -would be well; not the shadow of a doubt darkened his thoughts. - -When he reached home and turned into his courtyard, a servant came -running to take his horse. “Lucian, sir, is well again!” the man -declared, almost breathless with the excitement of being the first to -give his master the thrilling news. - -“Yes, I know it.” Cornelius smiled. - -“But, sir, it was only an hour ago that....” - -“A man over at Capernaum told me then,” he said and strode toward the -house as the servant, mouth open, stared after him. - -As he stepped inside from the courtyard, his wife, who had heard him -ride in from the roadway, rushed to him and flung her aims about his -waist. “Oh, Cornelius, Lucian has been restored! Not only has his fever -gone, but so has the paralysis. He can use his arms and hands, and he -can walk as though nothing had ever been wrong with his legs!” - -She stood back from him, her eyes wet with the sudden surging of her -emotion. “Isn’t it wonderful, Cornelius! And it happened so quickly, -too; he was low, Cornelius, desperately sick, much sicker than when you -left, I’m sure, and the fever was consuming him. I had turned aside from -his bed a moment to wet a cloth to spread on his forehead; then, as I -wrung it out and turned back to him, suddenly he sat up. I caught him -under his arms and discovered that he was no longer feverish; in a -moment he was talking and using his hands, and then quickly he stood up -and walked toward the table where I had set the pitcher of cool water. -‘I’m so thirsty,’ he said, grinning at me, ‘and hungry, too.’” - -“Yes, I knew about it. It happened about an hour ago. Where is Lucian -now?” - -“He went out to the stables. He wanted to see his horse; he hadn’t....” -Abruptly she broke off and stared at her husband, incredulous. -“Cornelius, how did you know when it happened? Did one of the servants -tell...?” - -“Yes, when I rode in a moment ago. But I knew when it happened.” - -“But how, Cornelius?” Her amazement was evident. - -“Have you forgotten that I went in search of the carpenter of Nazareth? -Well, an hour ago I came upon him beyond the western gate of Capernaum. -I implored him to heal Lucian, and he did. He told me so. And I knew he -had; I had not the slightest doubt. Nor am I in the least surprised to -find him well.” His serious expression relaxed into a warm smile. “Did -you feed the young imp?” - -“Yes. And he was famished. Literally, Cornelius, the boy ate like a -horse.” - -“Well, he hadn’t had anything in days; he was bound to be empty.” - -“But, Cornelius, this carpenter from Nazareth....” She paused, her -forehead furrowed in perplexity. - -“Yes,” he said, not waiting for her to finish her question, “and, by all -the gods, I’d like to see Longinus try to explain this one away!” - - - - - Rome - - - [Illustration: decorative glyph] - - - - - 27 - - -When the vessel eased in to dock just below the Sublicious Bridge, -almost at the spot from which the “Palmyra” had started its voyage, -Longinus went ashore. Quickly he engaged a loitering freed slave to help -with his luggage. He had brought little from Phoenicia, only his -clothing and a few small presents for his mother, principally some -choice pieces of glass, and the package he was delivering to Sejanus. - -“I’ll carry this,” he said to the fellow; “it’s glass and fragile.” He -picked up the bundle, heavily wrapped. “And I’ll take this spare toga, -too. You can carry the remainder. I don’t want any sedan chair; I’d -rather walk. I want to get my land legs back.” - -The toga had been wrapped about the money packet, which Longinus had -kept securely under his arm as he descended from the ship. But it was an -innocent looking bundle and only its weight would have excited a -bearer’s suspicion. Longinus had determined not to let it get out of his -possession until he had locked it in his father’s safe to await its -delivery to the Prefect. - -They walked from the pier along the way that went eastward from the -bridge into the dense, traffic-jammed heart of the city. At the foot of -Palatine Hill they turned left and walked northward past the western -front of the Imperial Palace. Glancing over his shoulder as they reached -the northwest corner of the sprawling great structure, Longinus had a -glimpse of the wing that had been Claudia’s apartment; once again he -picked out the bedroom window through which that morning he had heard -the rising bugle at Castra Praetoria. - -“I wonder....” - -“Sir, did you say something?” His helper, trudging behind, paused. - -“No.” Longinus turned to face him. “I was just thinking, talking to -myself.” - -All the way from the dock area Longinus had been retracing the route he -had come with his century from Castra Praetoria the day they sailed for -Palestine. But a hundred paces farther on, instead of continuing past -the Forum of Augustus on their left, he turned abruptly westward. “I -want to walk through the Forum Romanum,” he explained. “It’s been a long -time since I’ve been there. I’ve lost touch with Rome. What’s been -happening lately?” - -“Very little, sir, as far as I’ve seen.” The fellow shook his head -resignedly. “No triumphs, as I recall, no big ones anyway, and precious -few games.” - -“Why haven’t there been more?” - -“Oh, I don’t know, sir. They say the Emperor gets no enjoyment out of -such things, and he’s not here in Rome most of the time anyway, and I -hear it told that the Prefect doesn’t want to spend the money....” - -“They do say that?” - -“Now, sir, I have heard such talk. Understand, I don’t know anything -about it; I don’t know anything about them, the Emperor and the Prefect. -Not a thing. I don’t even know whether I’d recognize either one of them -if he came right up to us now.” The fellow’s fear that he had spoken too -boldly was obvious. “All I ever get done, sir, is work; I have to -struggle hard to make a living. Seems that it’s just like it’s always -been in Rome, the way I see it, which is that the rich get richer and -the poor get poorer.” He grinned good-naturedly. “I’m meaning no offense -to you, Centurion; likely you’re one of the rich ones.” - -“I understand, and I suspect it’s a sound observation, that the rich do -get richer and the poor get poorer, I mean. But it’s not true of Rome -alone; it’s that way everywhere, isn’t it, throughout the world?” - -“I couldn’t say as to that, sir. Rome’s pretty much my world.” - -Rome was his world, too, Longinus told himself a moment later as the two -were propelled suddenly from the shaded cavern of the cobblestoned -narrow street into the widened stir and commotion of a veritable forest -of marbled columns and statuary. - -The centurion’s heart lifted as he strode once more into the Forum -Romanum, that busy, marble-crowded flat between the Tiber’s westward -bend and the mansion-crowned hills. He took a deep breath, and his chest -swelled. - -_... This is the veritable beating, pulsing heart of Rome, and Rome is -the world. Here is reality. Here are solidity, strength, planning made -real, dreams hewn in enduring stone. Here are wealth, accomplishment, -power, might. Not twenty paces across there is the Millenarium Aureum, -the resplendent bronze column set up to mark the center of the Roman -world, the point from which miles are counted along the highways and -their joining sea lanes stretching to the ends of the known earth to -bind Rome into one colossal, unconquerable, enduring Empire!..._ - -They paused to catch their breath. Longinus set down the glass, but he -continued to clutch the toga-wrapped packet under his arm. In another -moment they would push once more into the jostling, shoving multitude -milling through the Forum’s crossways. Suddenly the centurion remembered -Cornelius and their discussion that afternoon as the two men had sat in -the wrecked rowboat near the glassworks. He smiled grimly. - -_... But this is Rome. This is reality. This is accomplishment, -creation. I can reach out and run my hand over the stone and feel these -marbled creations of men; a thousand years from now, were I to live so -long, I could rub my hands across their imperishable cold faces. These -are tangible things, and Rome is tangible, her power, her strength, her -wealth, her dominance over the world. Cornelius may prate of his old -tutor’s preachments about the imperishability of the intangibles and the -reality of things unseen. But these statues, these temples, this -Millenarium Aureum, are tangible. Rome is carved statuary and fluted -marble magnificence; Rome is spacious mansions and marching great armies -flaunting their ensigns. Rome is poverty, too, and injustice and -ugliness at times and in places, but Rome is no pale intangibles, no -vaporous conjurations of an eastern philosopher. Rome is not even her -gods. This is Rome, this marbled splendor of the Forum; Rome is here and -now and touchable and real, and Rome, by all the gods or no gods, will -endure._ - -_... Rome is something else. Rome is strength and power and substance, -but Rome is also grace and beauty. Examine these graceful columns, these -elegant pediments. Rome is feminine, a beautiful woman. Rome, by the -great Jove, is Claudia. Indeed! What is more Rome than Claudia; what is -more Claudia than Rome? Rome is beauty and pleasure, tangible, real, to -be experienced, enjoyed._ - -_... And Rome will endure. That carpenter of Galilee, wandering up and -down the seacoast with his little band of poor working people, talking -of intangibles to illiterate fisherfolk and the dwellers in Jerusalem’s -festering Ophel, that fellow to overcome Rome! Even under the silvery -softness of a full moon beside the sea in Galilee, it was a preposterous -notion. But here in the middle of the Forum, with confirmation of Rome’s -might everywhere around...._ - -“By all the gods, Cornelius. Can’t you see?” - -The man carrying Longinus’ belongings whirled suddenly around. “I beg -your pardon, sir,” he asked, “did you command anything of me?” - -Longinus laughed. “No,” he answered. “I was just thinking aloud again. I -must be growing old.” He reached down and picked up the glassware -package. “But let’s be moving on. I’m anxious to get to my father’s -house.” He pointed the directions. “Out that way and on through the -Forum of Augustus to Via Longa. The house is on Quirinal Hill.” - - - - - 28 - - -Longinus placed the package on the desk in front of the Prefect. “Sir, -I’m delivering this to you just as I received it at the glassworks,” he -said. “I have not seen the contents; I don’t know what’s inside. The -package when it was handed to me was sealed as you see it now; the seals -have not been broken.” - -“Thank you, Centurion, for bringing it; it has been quite a -responsibility, I know.” The Prefect’s darting eyes, Longinus saw, had -examined the package already. The centurion, appraising Sejanus in the -short moment he had been in the ornate chamber, had observed no change -in the Prefect’s appearance. Judging by the man’s looks and demeanor, it -might well have been only yesterday that they had last met. The small, -cold eyes were just as carefully calculating as they had been the day -the Prefect had given Longinus his orders and sent him and Cornelius -eastward aboard the “Palmyra.” Now the eyes were disarmingly friendly. -“My purpose in having it so well sealed was not because I didn’t trust -you, Longinus, but because I wished the manager at the glassworks to -know that no one but himself could be blamed in the event that the -contents were subsequently found short. I knew that he would therefore -make sure that the packet left Phoenicia intact.” The blinking, small -eyes narrowed. “So actually, you see, it was a protection for you.” With -a flourish of the hand he motioned to the chair in front of the massive -desk. “Sit down, Centurion.” - -“Thank you, sir.” Longinus took the seat and faced the Prefect. - -Sejanus leaned forward and crossed his hands on the desk. “In all -likelihood, Centurion, you’ve been wondering why I summoned you to -Rome.” - -“I have wondered, sir.” - -“Yes, I’m sure you have. And I’m sure you’ve also guessed that I -dispatched my message to you before receiving your report.” - -“I had presumed so, sir.” - -“And right you were. Had I received the report but a few days earlier I -would not have summoned you here. But once I’d received your -communication, I had no way of countermanding my order to you so that -you would get it before sailing for Rome.” He sat back in his chair and -folded his arms across his chest; his entire attitude radiated good -humor. “But I’m glad it happened as it did, Longinus. I’d rather like to -hear in person from you concerning the situation in Palestine. It was a -good report, Centurion, and comprehensive, so far as such written -reports go. But I had the feeling in reading it that you might have had -further information to give had you been able to talk with me directly. -Perhaps discretion had cramped your writing hand.” Now his smile was -disarming. “But here, with no ears to hear us but our own, we can talk -with complete freedom. I, too, can say things that I would not dare -write.” - -The Prefect unfolded his arms and, leaning forward, drummed his fingers -on the desk. He studied the centurion briefly through narrowed eyes, -then sat back again. - -“How did you leave the Procurator, Longinus?” - -“He was quite well, sir, when I left him at Caesarea. But your message -overtook me at Tiberias, and I had then been away from Caesarea for some -time. I went on to the glassworks and sailed from Tyre, as you -suggested.” - -“Then you have seen Herod Antipas quite recently?” - -“Yes, sir. I saw the Tetrarch and Herodias and told them good-by just -before leaving Tiberias. I had escorted them to Galilee from their -landing at Caesarea.” - -“And how did the daughter of King Aretas accept Herod’s new wife?” - -“She didn’t, sir. She has left him and returned to her father. She....” - -“By winged Mercury!” Sejanus lunged forward and slammed his fist against -the desk. “Gone, you say? Fled to Aretas? By great Jupiter! But this you -did not report, Longinus!” - -“Sir, Herod didn’t know she was gone until we arrived at his capital. I -was preparing to dispatch a report to you when I received your summons, -and then I decided I would bring the report in person, instead.” He -ventured a wan smile, and the Prefect himself relaxed. - -“I understand; you did right, Centurion.” Then his countenance darkened, -and his narrow forehead wrinkled. “This is a matter of considerable -moment; I shall come back to it presently.” He shook his head. “Yes, it -could have dire repercussions. But for the moment, let us speak of more -pleasant things.” His small weasel-like face lighted with a thin but -suggestive smile. “Longinus, when did you last see Claudia? How is the -Procurator’s wife?” - -“I saw her in Tiberias the day before I left there for Phoenicia, sir. -Herodias and Herod Antipas had invited her to accompany them to Tiberias -for a visit.” - -“And Pilate didn’t object to her going up into Galilee with them ... and -you?” He licked his lips and drew them in thin lines across his teeth. - -“If he did, sir, he did not indicate anything of the sort to me.” - -“I’m sure the Procurator would do nothing that he thought might -displease the Emperor’s stepdaughter. But what he thinks, however, is a -different matter, isn’t it?” - -“I’m sure it is, sir.” Longinus expected momentarily that the Prefect -would begin plying him with intimately personal questions concerning his -relations with the Procurator’s wife, and he wondered desperately how he -should answer. But, happily, Sejanus turned away from the Procurator’s -affairs to return to a discussion of the Tetrarch’s. - -“You were saying a moment ago, Longinus”—the familiar scowl had returned -to the Prefect’s face—“that Herod’s wife has gone back to old Aretas. -Have you had any reports concerning his feelings toward Herod for the -way his daughter has been treated?” - -“He was greatly angered, according to reports coming back to Galilee, -sir.” - -Sejanus shook his head slowly. “No doubt.” He reflected a moment. “Has -there been any talk of possible reprisal?” - -“There has been some talk that Aretas might attempt to punish Herod. But -that would mean war, sir, and war with us Romans. So I feel that Aretas -would hardly be so foolhardy as to attempt to send an army against -Herod.” - -“I hardly think so, either, Centurion. But a father will sometimes do -foolish things when his daughter’s honor is at stake. If Aretas should -challenge Herod, that will mean war, and war is expensive, Longinus. The -cost in terms of both men and money is exorbitant ... and useless. War -would also mean loss of work and production and loss of revenue in -addition to the expenditure of revenue already collected.” His frown -deepened. “By the great gods, I should never have permitted Herod to -have Herodias. He has not only offended his own people; he has now set -King Aretas against him ... and us!” - -Angrily the Prefect drummed his fingers on the desk again. Then quickly -his anger seemed to disappear. He arose, and the centurion stood with -him. “But we need not anticipate events,” Sejanus said. “When you go -back to Palestine, however, I want you to make a careful investigation -of the situation. It might be well for you to contrive some reason for -visiting our fortress at Machaerus; it’s over beyond the Dead Sea on the -borders of Arabia; perhaps by going there you may learn whether Aretas -is actually planning to attack Herod.” - -“I’m familiar with the place, sir. I was there several years ago.” - -“Yes. By the way, in your report of Herod’s arrest of that desert -preacher, you indicated that he may have displeased a large number of -the Jews.” - -“I’m confident he did, sir. Many of them hold that John in the highest -regard. I think Herod made a mistake, sir, and I felt it my duty to -inform you so.” - -“But wasn’t Herod justified in believing him to be an insurrectionist?” - -“At first, sir, I confess I thought so. But Cornelius, who understands -the Jews, insisted that he was just a harmless religious fanatic, and -nothing more. Frankly I soon came to the same conclusion. The fellow is -deluded, of course, but so are most of the Jews in respect to their -foolish one-god religion; other than that, I’m convinced that he’s -entirely harmless. And he has many followers who were deeply offended -when Herod, at the insistence of Herodias, had him arrested.” - -“By the gods, that headstrong woman! She will be Herod’s ruination!” He -was thoughtfully silent. “Perhaps, Centurion, Rome might profit if I had -the man liberated. At any rate, look into the matter, and let me hear as -quickly as you can”—his scowl deepened—“if it will wait that long ... -and if Aretas isn’t precipitate in sending an army against Herod.” - -“But, sir....” - -“I haven’t told you, Longinus,” the Prefect interrupted. “You aren’t -returning at once to Palestine. Now that you’re here, I have another -mission, quite urgent, that I’m sending you on into Gaul. When you have -accomplished this—and it should require only a few months—you will go -out to the east again.” - -Sejanus pushed out his lips into a round pucker, and once more his eyes -began to catch fire and his narrow face lighted sensually. Then he -twisted his lips again into the thin semblance of a smile. “I hope, -Centurion, that you can wait that long ... before getting back to -Claudia!” Then quickly the smile was gone. “Remember, Longinus, she must -be kept away from Rome, and it will continue to be your task to keep her -happily occupied.” The lips twisted again. “That task, I should think, -will not be an unpleasant one.” - - - - - Machaerus - - - [Illustration: decorative glyph] - - - - - 29 - - -Someone knocked on the door to Claudia’s apartment, and Tullia was sent -to answer it. She ran quickly back into the tepidarium. - -“Tertius says there’s a soldier to see you, Mistress, a centurion. He’s -waiting in the atrium.” - -“Longinus! Oh, by the Bountiful Mother!” But quickly Claudia’s elation -subsided. “He must still be in Gaul, though, according to the -information Sergius Paulus had from Rome. Still”—her face lighted—“he -might have returned early, perhaps, and caught a fast vessel to -Caesarea. Bona Dea, Tullia, help me finish dressing! The perfume, that -vial”—she pointed—“the Tyrian. And do hurry, Tullia!” - -A few minutes later she scurried breathlessly into the atrium. But the -soldier was not Longinus. The Centurion Cornelius arose and advanced to -meet her. He saw her disappointment and smiled understanding. “I’m -sorry, Claudia, but Longinus hasn’t returned to Palestine, nor have we -heard at Tiberias when he expects to arrive. I’ve come to bring you a -message from the Tetrarch Herod Antipas and the Tetrarchess.” - -“I’ll confess I was hoping Longinus had surprised me, Cornelius,” she -said, “although I’d heard that he was still in Gaul. Did you know about -his assignment out there?” - -Cornelius nodded. “Yes. But we understood it was not to be a lengthy -mission.” - -Claudia motioned to a seat; she sat down and Cornelius sat facing her. -She summoned Tertius to bring wine and wafers. “And now, Centurion,” she -said, “what is the message you fetch me from Tiberias?” - -“They are inviting you and the Procurator to go with them down to -Machaerus to spend a holiday season there. And if the Procurator’s -duties will not permit his leaving his post, the Tetrarchess hopes that -you will join them anyway, together with your servants and any guests -you may wish to bring.” - -“To Machaerus? That’s the fortress castle on the other side of the Dead -Sea, isn’t it, on the southern border of Peraea?” - -“Yes, it’s on a high plateau overlooking the Dead Sea, some way south of -Mount Nebo.” - -“A wild and desolate country, isn’t it? I’ve never been there.” - -“I understand so; I’ve never been there myself. A good place, they say -in Tiberias, for the sort of holiday the Tetrarch particularly enjoys -... wild, uninhibited, like himself.” - -Claudia laughed appreciatively. “It promises to be interesting at any -rate. But”—her face clouded perceptibly—“I know that Pilate won’t go. In -the first place, he loathes Antipas—and I do, too, as a matter of -fact—and in the second place, he wouldn’t venture that far from -provincial headquarters. But he might let me go. And it would be a -change from this dreary existence.” She brightened. “When are they -planning to make this holiday excursion?” - -“As a matter of fact, they’ve probably already started. They sent me on -ahead in the hope that you might agree to join them; if you should, I’m -to escort you and your party to the Jordan, where they plan to meet us. -They were to start this morning from Tiberias. If we could leave by -tomorrow morning, we would be able to reach the Jordan at about the same -time they do. From there we would continue down the Jordan Valley to the -Dead Sea and around its eastern shore at the foot of Mount Nebo to -Machaerus.” - -“How long do they plan to be there?” - -“A week or longer, probably longer”—Cornelius smiled glumly—“if the -Tetrarch has to recover from one of his usual drunken orgies. But if you -should wish to leave earlier, I’d be glad to escort you back to -Caesarea. And we’ll see that you don’t ran afoul of Bar Abbas or any of -those other zealot cutthroats.” - -“I really would like to go, and I see no reason why I shouldn’t, even if -Pilate won’t. If I only knew that Longinus would be there.” ... She -broke off, laughing. “Cornelius, why do you suppose old Sejanus recalled -him to Rome? Do you think it was because of”—she shrugged—“well, us? And -do you suppose he’ll continue to provide assignments that will keep him -away from Palestine?” - -Cornelius shook his head. “I hardly think so, Claudia. The Prefect, in -my opinion, summoned him to Rome to inquire about the situation out -here. I think he wanted to learn about the temper of the people, how the -Jews were taking to Antipas and his new wife, and to the new Procurator; -that was one reason, I’m sure. But he was mainly interested in learning -whether the revenue was flowing into his treasury without being diverted -in part into the coffers of....” He paused. - -“Pilate and Antipas?” - -“That’s my opinion, Claudia. I don’t believe the Prefect is really -concerned with anything beyond keeping the province peacefully paying -its taxes. So I’m confident Longinus will be sent back to Palestine, -he’s the man Sejanus needs for the job he gave him ... and still needs; -he’ll be back, though I’d hesitate to predict when.” He shrugged his -shoulders. “For a soldier, I’ve been speaking very freely, and to the -wife of the Procurator, at that.” - -“And for the wife of the Procurator, so have I. But I’m not naïve enough -to think, Cornelius, that you don’t know just how little I am Pilate’s -wife. You must feel free to talk with me in complete frankness, just as -I feel free to talk that way with you. And tomorrow, by the gods, Pilate -willing or Pilate grumbling—and he won’t grumble at me, by the Great -Mother—I’ll start with you for Machaerus.” - - - - - 30 - - -The two sat in a protected spot of warming sunshine on the terrace at -Machaerus. A week ago as the caravan bringing the Tetrarch’s party had -moved down the low trough of the Jordan, the faintly greening willows -and oleanders bordering the twisting stream had hinted of spring. But -here on this desolate, upflung headland, barren and granite-capped, the -March winds were crisply chill. - -“Are you cold?” Herodias asked. “Would you like to go inside?” - -“No, it’s wonderful out here, as long as we’re sheltered from the wind. -It’s so bracing, so invigorating after all our dissipating....” - -“But, my dear, I haven’t been aware of your dissipating at Machaerus. -With Longinus not here....” - -“Pluto roast old Sejanus! But too much wine, nevertheless, and entirely -too much rich food.” Claudia looked out from beneath long eyelashes. -“After all, isn’t more indulging done in banquet halls than in -bedrooms?” - -“As far as I’m concerned, yes, certainly.” - -“But the Tetrarch is here with you, Herodias, and he appears to be in a -gay holiday mood.” - -“Here with me? Hah!” She tossed her head disdainfully. “With his women, -you mean, those dark, fat, greasy, perfume-reeking Arabian women old -Aretas gave him. And his little girls.” - -“Little girls?” - -“Yes. Hadn’t you noticed? They seem at the moment to be an important -part of the Machaerus staff. As Antipas gets more senile—and I’m sure -he’s getting that way—he tries more and more to ape the Emperor. At -least, that’s what I believe he thinks he’s doing. It’s disgusting, of -course, but I welcome being relieved of his crude attentions.” - -“But in Rome, Herodias, weren’t you eager to marry Antipas?” - -“Yes, but you know why. I wanted to marry the Tetrarch of Galilee and -Peraea so that I could make him a king and myself a queen. I sought the -office, my dear, not the man.” She pulled her lips into a determined -grim line. “And I still expect to see him on a king’s throne, with me -seated beside him. But as a man Antipas has as much attraction for me as -... as I suppose Pilate has for you.” - -Claudia laughed understanding, but made no observation. Instead, she -pointed westward. “Look how high we are here. The Dead Sea seems almost -below us, and it must be several miles away.” - -“The surface of the Dead Sea is a quarter of a mile below the surface of -the Great Sea. And we’re a half mile above the Great Sea; that would -make us, where we sit now, about four thousand feet above the Dead Sea, -wouldn’t it? Jerusalem, of course, is almost this high.” Herodias -twisted around slightly to point northwestward. “See, across there, -almost straight west of the top of the Dead Sea, that’s Jerusalem. It’s -too far away, of course, for us to distinguish any of the buildings, but -the city’s on that rise, just there. Sometimes of a late afternoon, when -the angle is just right, they say, one can see the sunlight flashing -from the golden roof of the Temple.” - -Claudia looked off to her left and settled back in her chair. “Herodias, -why did they ever build this palace in such a desolate, rockbound region -so far from everything?” - -“I asked Antipas the same question. He said it was built more as a fort -than a palace. This is near the southern boundary of the tetrarchy. Down -there”—she pointed southward above a narrow valley fast greening with -luxuriant vegetation—“beyond that stream with its banks lined with -willows is the kingdom of Aretas. The Herods originally came from that -region at the southern end of the Dead Sea, which was called Idumaea. So -this fortress up here was built as a defense post.” - -“Then Aretas isn’t far away, is he? By the way, what became of his -daughter, the woman you displaced?” - -“I don’t know, and what’s more, I don’t care!” She realized that she had -spoken petulantly. “I didn’t mean to be short, Claudia. I have no reason -to hate her, after all. And I have no idea that she or her father will -attempt reprisal against Antipas. Any attack upon him would be an attack -upon Rome, and surely they wouldn’t risk that.” - -“I think you need have no apprehensions. But, of course, I know -absolutely nothing about this King Aretas or his daughter. Generally, -though, I understand, these eastern peoples are impulsive and -vindictive.” - -“But they’re also known to be very shrewd. Surely he would know he -couldn’t defeat Rome.” - -“If he calmly considered the situation, yes.” She shrugged. “I hope so. -If Rome should be involved in war with the Arabian king, Sejanus and the -Emperor would both be infuriated, and Sejanus, I’m sure, would place the -blame for it upon Antipas ... and you.” She had been looking downward -beyond the descending outcroppings of granite and limestone and sand to -the great sluggish salt sea far below them. But now she confronted -Herodias, her countenance plainly concerned. “Herodias, if Aretas should -seek vengeance against the Tetrarch and you, what would the Israelites -do? Would they fight him? Have they become reconciled to your being -Tetrarchess? Do many of them still hold with that wild fellow we -encountered that day on the river bank?” She paused, and suddenly her -eyes were roundly questioning. “Wasn’t it to Machaerus that Antipas sent -him? By the gods, is he here now?” - -“Yes, and still a troublemaker. They say his followers have been coming -here all the time since he’s been imprisoned. Haven’t you noticed all -the Jews coming and going while we’ve been here? Look.” She indicated a -point far down the slope where the trail to Machaerus led from the road -paralleling the lakeside. “That group down there, I’d wager they’re -coming here to listen to the fellow’s haranguing. And they’ll try to see -Antipas and petition him to free the madman.” For a moment she watched -the men coming slowly up the slope. “If Antipas had done as I said and -had the man beheaded, he could have prevented all this; while that -fellow’s alive there’ll be more and more agitation against us.” She -hunched up a shoulder. “But what can one do with a person,” she said -indifferently, “who is not only fearful and woefully superstitious but -is horribly obstinate as well?” She stood up. “Excuse me, Claudia; you -stay out here and sun yourself as long as you like. But I have some -things to do before we sit down to Antipas’ birthday banquet, one of -which, no doubt”—her brittle laugh echoed across the terrace—“will be to -get him sobered sufficiently to attend it himself.” - - - - - 31 - - -The Tetrarch, mouth open, his thick lips grease-smeared and -wine-purpled, snored sonorously; his round, closely cropped head, -cradled in his hand, swayed in precarious balance on the column of his -forearm which was pressed into the heavy cushion. - -Herodias, reclining at his left, had changed position to rest her head -on her right arm and thereby avoid somewhat breathing the heavily -alcoholic exhalations of her spouse; she lay facing her daughter. - -Claudia, Herod’s guest of honor, was at his right, and next to her, as -the ranking Roman soldier at Machaerus, Herod had placed the Centurion -Cornelius. Other guests, in various stages of intoxication, sat or -reclined on their elbows or had fallen inert on their couches to the -right and left of the Tetrarch. - -The banquet had begun in the daylight of late afternoon, and by the time -the sun had dropped behind the western headlands the Tetrarch and his -guests had begun to be surfeited with the richly tempting food, the -wine, and the wildly sensual dancing of Herod’s darkly handsome Arabian -women, who, nude but for gossamer thin, gaily colored loincloths, -writhed and twisted in the open square before the tables to the -oriental, whining insistence of the strings and the maddeningly -rhythmical beat of the drums. - -But now the dancers, their copper-hued perspiring bodies shining as -though they had been rubbed with olive oil, had retired to a chamber -adjoining the banquet room. From there they could come prancing out -barefoot, with lewd twistings and contortings, at the first summons of -the musicians. Until Antipas should arouse from his stupor, though, and -call for them, they would be free to relax. - -Cornelius, who had been eying the Tetrarch, nodded in his direction. “If -we could get his head down flat,” he said to Claudia, “he’d be asleep -until morning, and we could leave. Wouldn’t you like to get away?” - -“Yes. I’m gorged. And I’d like to have a breath of fresh air on the -terrace. Perhaps Herodias would excuse us. I had no idea that -Antipas....” - -But at that instant the Tetrarch’s head slipped from its cradling hand, -and he fell face downward upon the cushion. The sudden drop awakened -him, and he twisted his legs around heavily and sat up. The leader of -the musicians, seeing him, signaled his men to begin playing and -motioned to the dancers to return. - -“No! No!” shouted the Tetrarch. “We have had enough of their dancing! -But now, my friends”—Antipas faced right and left to look along the -couches, as his guests began to sit up—“I shall provide you with more -novel entertainment.” He paused and reached for his wine goblet. “I ask -your pardon for having gone to sleep, although I’m sure a number of you -did likewise. During our stay at Machaerus I have been overindulging in -food and wine and, for a man of my age, certainly, other more strenuous -pleasures.” He ran his thick tongue over his greasy lips and smiled -lewdly. “But now”—he signaled two of the guards standing at the doorway -opening upon the terrace—“go into the dungeon and fetch to our birthday -feast the Wilderness prophet.” - -Herodias whirled about to confront him, her countenance betraying both -anger and amazement. “Why should the Tetrarch bring that depraved madman -here to insult his guests, his wife, and himself? Has the Tetrarch -permitted too much wine and too many women...?” - -“Patience, my dear! And be calm. I am not having him brought before us -to insult us. On the contrary, he will ask our pardon for his -intemperate words, and we shall release him.” - -“Release him! By all the gods, can the Tetrarch be speaking seriously? -Does he for one moment contemplate giving this notorious insurrectionist -his freedom to resume his agitating against us, against Rome...?” - -“But, my dear Tetrarchess, Rome, as represented by the Centurion -Cornelius,” he interrupted, as he glanced toward the centurion and then -turned his head the other way to address his wife, “thinks that -releasing this man will be not only an evidence of the Tetrarch’s -magnanimity but also a politic act greatly pleasing to a countless -number of our Jewish brothers. It was he who suggested....” - -“But are not you Tetrarch of Galilee and Peraea? Was it not your wife -and you, not the centurion, whom this revolutionary castigated so -bitterly? And has he not sought to inflame the people even against -Rome?” - -Claudia had turned to confront Cornelius; she said nothing, but her eyes -were sharply questioning. He bent forward and spoke quietly, so that -none of the others would hear. - -“I did suggest that it would be a good idea—especially in so far as -Sejanus is concerned—for him to free the man, since it would please the -Jews and the man is plainly no insurrectionist against Rome. But I -didn’t know he meant to have the fellow brought before us. The man -should have been freed quietly, with no fanfare.” - -“Frankly, I think he would have done better,” Claudia whispered to -Cornelius, “to have had the fellow beheaded, but quietly.” She leaned -nearer the centurion. “Antipas craves attention; he tries to be -dramatic. He’s always....” - -But suddenly she stopped, for the guards, flanking the manacled -prisoner, were entering the great hall. They escorted John into the open -square before the Tetrarch’s table. - -“Unbind him,” the Tetrarch commanded, “and step back from him.” - -In an instant the guards had removed the shackles about the prophet’s -wrists and retreated to their former places at the doorway. - -Though not all the Tetrarch’s guests had completely sobered, every eye -was on the Wilderness preacher. In the months he had been imprisoned in -the Machaerus dungeon, John had lost the leathery deep burn of the -desert, but otherwise he was little changed. He was tall and erect and -perhaps even more gaunt than he had appeared to be the day Antipas had -ordered his arrest; his coarse brown robe, belted with a woven rope at -the waist, hung loosely about him. But his eyes still blazed with the -zealot’s fire as, relaxed and silent, he stood calmly facing the -Tetrarch. - -“You are the Prophet John of the Wilderness and the Jordan Valley?” -Antipas asked, his tone and manner almost friendly. - -“Have I been so long in your dungeon, O Tetrarch, that you can’t be sure -you know me?” - -The question and the tone in which it was framed were sarcastic, even -patronizing, but the Tetrarch appeared to take no offense. - -“It was an idle query, and you have been a long time in prison. Perhaps -your intemperate words to the Tetrarch and the Tetrarchess have been -sufficiently punished.” Antipas smiled blandly and rubbed his fat hands -together. “Our banqueting this day is an occasion of joy and merriment; -it is our birthday and to mark it further the Tetrarch is happy to -demonstrate before these our honored guests, including even the wife of -the great Procurator Pontius Pilate”—he bowed toward Claudia, who had -been listening avidly—“and our honored Centurion Cornelius, his softness -of heart toward his subjects. Today a group of the prophet’s -followers”—now he bowed toward John—“has petitioned the Tetrarch to -liberate him. These men assured us that you”—he spoke directly to the -gaunt preacher—“have never had any thought of insurrection against the -government of Rome or the Tetrarch but that you were concerned only with -the promulgation of our true religion. I agreed I would grant their -petition. Now as soon as you satisfy me that you will cause us no -further trouble and express your regret for the intemperate and -malicious words with which you castigated the Tetrarch and his beloved -Tetrarchess, as soon as you assure us that you have repented of your -evil words....” - -“Repented!” John’s eyes blazed. “I have nothing for which to repent to -you, O Tetrarch! My repentance is to the God of Israel against whom I -have sinned and continue to sin. But I have done you no evil. I call -upon you to repent, O you of evil and lustful heart, you robber of your -brother’s bed!” The prophet lifted himself upon his sandaled toes and -pointed with lean forearm straight upward toward the ceiling dome. -“Repent! Repent! Repent, for your days are numbered! The Messiah of God, -Him of Whom I spoke in the Wilderness and along the Jordan lowlands, had -come! Even now He walks up and down Galilee preaching of the coming of -the Kingdom and bringing blessed salvation to those whose ears are bent -to hear Him. The time of repentance, O Tetrarch, is now!” He lowered his -gaunt arm, and the robe fell about it, and he swept it in an arc in the -faces of the diners on the square of couches. “Repent! Repent! Cast away -your sins and be cleansed, and be baptized!” - -Suddenly the preacher paused, and his blazing eyes settled upon the -Tetrarchess. He thrust out his arm and held it before the startled -woman’s face. “And you, repent, you evil woman, you deserter of your -lawful bed, return to your husband, forswear your adulterous -cohabiting....” - -“Hold your tongue!” Herodias, eyes flashing her uncontrollable rage, her -cheeks flaming, had sprung to her feet. She leaned across the -food-covered, disordered table. “By all the gods, O Tetrarch”—she turned -to grasp her husband’s shoulder as he sat upright on the couch—“I will -hear no more of this evil madman’s prattle. Send him away—have him shot -with arrows, or order him beheaded, or throw him again into the -dungeon—by the great Jove, I don’t care what you do with him, but I will -not remain here with him and be further insulted!” She shook his -shoulder furiously. “Do you understand, Antipas? Do you understand, by -the Great Mother Ceres?” - -The Tetrarch stumbled to his feet, swayed, but clutched the table edge -to steady himself. “Take your seat, my dear,” he said evenly. “I -understand very well what you say. And you speak the truth.” He turned -from her to face the desert preacher. “I had meant to hand you your -freedom, Wilderness prophet; I had meant to give you into the care of -your friends who remained here tonight to take you back into Judaea. But -your vicious tirade against us forces me to change my plans for you.” He -beckoned to the two guards. “Manacle him, and return him to the -dungeon,” he commanded. - -Quickly they fettered his wrists and, grasping him by the arms, led him -toward the door through which moments ago they had brought him into the -chamber. John walked silently, head erect and unafraid. But as they were -about to go out through the doorway, he jerked his arms free, and -whirled about to face the Tetrarch and his guests. Raising the manacled -hands, he pointed toward the Tetrarch. “Repent, adulterer!” His blazing -eyes sought the still incensed Herodias. “And you, whore of Rome, get -you back to your Babylon!” - -The guards jerked their prisoner through the doorway, and the door -closed heavily behind them. The banqueters, silenced by the bitter -exchange between Herodias and the prophet, listened to the retreating -footsteps of the three along the corridor. - -“The fellow’s a fool,” Claudia observed in a low aside to Cornelius, -“but he does have courage.” - -“Yes, he must believe that he’s serving his Yahweh and Yahweh’s -Messiah,” the centurion agreed; “that faith must be the source of his -courage.” - -“Amazing. I cannot understand how these Jews can be so swayed by such -silly superstition. I do wonder what Antipas will do with him; Herodias, -if she could, would have his head off in a minute. And so would I, if he -had talked to me as he did to her.” She tossed her head and smiled -indifferently. “But why should I be concerned about this Jewish fanatic? -I don’t care one green Campanian fig what happens to him.” - -As she reached for her wine goblet, which a servant had refilled, -Antipas set his down and stood up. The servant hastened to fill the -Tetrarch’s. Antipas licked his thick lips. “By the beard of the High -Priest,” he said, “I really intended to liberate the prophet. His -imprisonment is on his own head.” He clutched the table’s edge to steady -himself again. Then he grasped his wine goblet and drained it in one -gulp. The servant raced around the table to refill the empty glass. -Antipas picked it up and twirled it slowly on its slender stem, “Drink, -my friends! Let us dispel this sudden gloom. Isn’t this the Tetrarch’s -birthday? Drink! Drink!” He downed the wine as his guests, lifting their -goblets, drank to their host. Antipas clapped his hands. “And now, music -and the dancing women!” - -The leader signaled to his men, and the musicians began their lively -playing, as the Arabian dancers came scampering again into the hollow -square before the tables. Antipas sat down, rested his head on the palm -of his left hand, and with his right reached for the glass. - -“Soon now he’ll be very drunk, and we can escape,” Cornelius whispered -to Claudia. “He’s still afraid of the Wilderness preacher, and he will -try to drown his fears in wine.” - -“But he just ordered the fellow back to the dungeon.” - -“He also fears Herodias. He’ll free John, though, as soon as he can do -so without his wife’s knowing about it.” - -The tempo of the music was increasing, and the women, refreshed by the -long intermission they had been having and the food and wine they had -been served, were fast approaching a frenzy of abandon in their wild -convolutions and sensual writhings. For a few moments the jaded -Tetrarch, watching the brazenly lewd gyrations of the dancing women, -appeared to be gaining renewed stimulation. But quickly his interest -faded; he sat up on his couch and straightened himself. “Hold!” he -commanded, waving his hand aloft. “Enough of this. We are surfeited on -dark women.” - -The music stopped. “Let them go,” said Antipas, nodding toward the -leader of the musicians. The man bowed to the Tetrarch and, turning, -waved his dismissal to the dancers, who went tripping out. Once again -the great triclinium was as still and the guests as suddenly silent as -they had been at the dramatic entrance of the gaunt prophet. - -Now the Tetrarch, beaming, looked to his left beyond his Tetrarchess. -“It is our wish that our beloved daughter Salome honor our birthday by -dancing for the Tetrarch and his guests,” he declared in honeyed tones. -“Will you not dance for us, my dear child?” - -Cornelius leaned forward to watch Herodias’ daughter. Salome seemed -amazed at her stepfather’s request. “But, Sire,” she ventured to -protest, as she turned on her couch to face the unctuously smiling -Tetrarch, “doesn’t my dear father know that I am not a dancer? Surely he -prefers the dancing of women trained in the art.” She shook her head -firmly. “Sire, I would not wish to display before this company just how -poorly....” - -“Oh come now, my child, your dancing will delight the Tetrarch and his -guests. Do not let maidenly modesty deny us the pleasure of seeing you -perform.” The Tetrarch’s eyes were beginning to flame. “We would delight -in your dancing, my dear. After all that dark flesh, a flashing before -us of firm, white, youthful....” - -“But Salome, the Tetrarch well knows, is not accustomed to dancing -before companies such as this.” Herodias, her eyes challenging, caught -her husband’s arm in protest. “And has not the Tetrarch seen enough -already of both white and dark female flesh? Is he not surfeited with -women? Why should he wish to see a child...?” - -“I wish to see her dance, my dear Tetrarchess. I have never seen her -dance. And is this not my birthday? Shouldn’t one be indulged on his -birthday?” He leaned past his wife to plead again with Salome. “Won’t -you, my dear Salome, dance just this once, to please and flatter your -doting father?” - -Claudia leaned close to Cornelius. “I don’t believe ‘doting’ is the -word,” she whispered; “I’d say ‘drooling’ is more like it.” - -Antipas was still pleading with the girl. “If you will but dance this -once for us, Salome, my child,” he said, his voice soft and sugared, his -round face disarmingly friendly, “I will grant any request you make of -me.” - -“If I could dance well, Sire, I would be happy to dance for the -Tetrarch, but I am not skilled in that art, nor do I have the mature -charms of the Arabian women nor the....” - -“But you have the tender charms, my dear Salome, the virginal charms of -the bud about to open to full flowering. And I am satiated with these -wide-open flowers ready to shatter.” He stood up and braced himself -against the table, then turned toward her with renewed pleading. “Dance -for us, my dear. Dance for us, and I will reward you what you will, I -swear by the High Priest’s beard, even to the half of our tetrarchy!” - -“But, Sire, even were I able to please the Tetrarch with my poor -efforts, I am not suitably dressed....” The girl paused, for her mother -had leaned over to whisper in her ear. She listened, solemn-faced, and -then, suddenly smiling, she turned back to address the Tetrarch. “Sire, -if the Tetrarch would not unmercifully censure my stumbling attempts, -and”—she hesitated, and her smile was demure—“does the Tetrarch really -intend seriously to grant any request I might make of him?” - -“I’ve never been more serious in my life, my dear child. I fully intend -to keep my promise. Anything you want, a marble palace, a pleasure barge -to rival Cleopatra’s, gold, precious gems, silks from the Orient, -anything; it is yours but for you to name it ... after you have danced -for the Tetrarch and his guests.” - -“Very well, Sire.” The girl stood up. “I shall do my best to please the -Tetrarch and his guests on his birthday. But, first, I must change my -costume.” Herodias arose unsteadily to stand beside her. “Mother will -help me dress.” - -Claudia leaned to her right to whisper to Cornelius. The Tetrarch, -absorbed in watching his wife and stepdaughter, would hardly have heard -her had she spoken aloud. “It’s Herodias who’s told her to dance for -him. She’s got some sort of scheme in mind, and I’m sure it hinges on -that request. I wonder what it will be....” - -Cornelius nodded. “Something, I would say, that bodes the Tetrarch no -good. I’ll be interested myself to see what Salome will ask.” - -A few minutes later Herodias reappeared in the doorway. She signaled to -the leader of the musicians, and he went over to her; she talked with -him a moment, and then, as he rejoined his group, she made her way -around the couches to resume her place beside the Tetrarch. Immediately -the leader raised his hand, and the musicians began to play. - -“By the great Jove!” Cornelius, who had turned momentarily to reply to -something Claudia had said, glanced back toward the doorway through -which the Tetrarchess had returned. At his murmured exclamation Claudia -looked in the same direction. - -“By Bona Dea! what a transformation!” she exclaimed. - -Salome was standing just inside the doorway. When she had left the -chamber a few minutes ago she had been wearing a shimmering white silken -stola, held at the waist by a wide girdle of interlaced narrow strips of -green and gold, and golden sandals. Her raven-black hair had been combed -back from a part in the center and bound in a loose knot at the back of -her neck where it was held neatly in place by a net. Her hair, like her -mother’s and Claudia’s, had been arranged in the style currently popular -among Roman women of the equestrian class. - -But now the girl, immobile and statuesque, stood stripped of every -garment she had worn in leaving the chamber. At first glance the -centurion thought Salome had returned completely in the nude, save for -the few thin veils she had draped about her shoulders. But looking more -closely, he saw that her loins were bound, though scantily, with a -carefully folded flesh-colored veil. To the casual observer and -certainly to the aging Tetrarch, the girl appeared to be standing before -them divested of all her clothing. The brightly colored veils even -heightened the illusion. She was barefoot, and her hair, freed from the -restricting net and unbound, fell past firm, outthrust breasts almost to -her slim waist in a tumbling dark cascade of curls. Salome looked as -though, finding herself unclad, she had pushed her black tresses -suddenly through a small wispish rainbow that had settled about her -white shoulders and slipped downward to her dimpled knees. - -“Her charms seem quite mature,” Cornelius whispered to Claudia, -grinning. - -“And I suspect they’re no longer virginal,” she replied. “But, by the -gods, she must be sixteen, and”—she leaned nearer and spoke into his -ear—“whoever could imagine a Herodian virgin any older!” - -Claudia’s caution had not been necessary, for the Tetrarch’s dark eyes, -smoldering as though at any moment they might burst into flame, were -measuring and exploring and savoring the girl. Claudia, following -Cornelius’ eyes, glanced toward the entranced ruler and then, turning -back to the centurion, whispered again, “Soon he’ll be drooling. He’s -mad, stark, raving mad.” - -The music had been soft and slow, but now Salome, with a quick upward -flexing of her fingers and a nod to signal the musicians, stepped -forward a pace and with shoulders twisting and hips undulating came -slithering into the opening between the tables. - -From high on a pilaster a shaded lamp cast a circle of bright light in -the center of the hollow square. As she tripped on the balls of her bare -feet, Salome held the sheer veils lightly to her white body, arms -crossed over her breasts, taking care to avoid the full brightness of -the illuminated circle. Once she ventured, whirling and twisting, to -come as close to the Tetrarch as the position directly in front of -Cornelius, but then teasingly she doubled back the other way. When a -moment later she reversed her direction and came prancing between the -bright circle and the Tetrarch’s couch, Antipas lunged forward to grasp -her, but laughingly she slipped from his reach and sped away. - -“Magnificent! Wonderful!” he shouted, unabashed, as he sank again to his -couch and reached for his goblet. “My child, you restore the sap of -youth to my aging limbs!” - -At the edge of the circle and straight across it from the Tetrarch, -Salome stopped, and as the drums ceased their throbbing and the strings -subsided to a whisper, she turned deliberately to face the Tetrarch and -his guests. - -“Bountiful Ceres!” Claudia kept her voice low. “Is she going to discard -those veils?” - -But Salome, with her arms still pressed across her chest, continued to -clutch the colored gauze protectively before her. The music began to -increase in volume, and hardly discernible at first above the harmony of -the strings and the flutes, the drums added their insistent throbbing. -Now the girl in the square before the diners slowly withdrew her right -arm, which had been crossed underneath the left one, and lifted it high; -at the same time she pushed forward her left leg, so that the gossamer -veils fell to either side to expose it from toes to hip, and leaned -back; the leg, torso, and lifted arm to ringed forefinger made one -continuous straight line of vibrant, glowing, suddenly stilled flesh, -veiled but scantily by the diaphanous colored silks. - -Cornelius ventured a glance toward the Tetrarch. Antipas, upright on his -couch, was leaning forward, mouth half open, dark eyes staring -unblinking at his stepdaughter and grandniece. The centurion gently -nudged Claudia. “Any moment now,” he whispered, “he’ll be lunging over -the table again.” But his eyes darted quickly to the girl. - -Her head was back, in line with the rest of her body, and her sultry -eyes looked upward to her extended forefinger. Now it began to move, -almost imperceptibly, so that few of the Tetrarch’s guests were aware of -the beginning of its motion. But Cornelius, intrigued, saw the finger’s -movement widening and speeding; like a serpent it was coiling and -uncoiling, twisting sideways, darting, writhing, all in perfect rhythm -with the music. As he watched, the motion of the finger appeared to flow -like liquid downward to involve the hand and then the forearm. Now along -the graceful length of her slender bare arm the smooth, unknotting -muscles, rippling and twisting, seemed to have transformed it into an -oriental adder swaying and bobbing to the compelling strains of the -charmer’s flute. - -“The child’s amazing, I must agree with the Tetrarch,” Cornelius said. -“Do you suppose Herodias trained her?” He leaned forward to glance past -Antipas to the intent Tetrarchess who seemed absorbed completely in her -daughter’s performance. “What a symphony of motion and movement!” - -“And when that movement begins to gyrate in the region of the hips, -Centurion, you’ll realize Salome’s no longer a child!” - -Nor was the flowing, rhythmical motion long in attaining that region. In -synchronized rolling and lifting and falling, the right shoulder joined -the twisting, gently writhing arm, and then the rounded stomach -undulated, freed now of the teasing veils. As the tempo of the music -speeded and the volume swelled and the throb of the drums grew deeper, -the hips began their undulating motion. Grinding, thrusting, -withdrawing, thrusting, they moved faster and faster in an abandon of -voluptuous movement. Then the music slowed again and the frenzied -gyrations with it, and quickly the movement ran downward from the -stilled hips and disappeared in a restrained tapping of bare toes on the -mosaic of the triclinium’s marble floor. - -The Tetrarch’s guests, inspired by his shouted acclamations, applauded -wildly. And before they had settled to silence again, Salome dextrously -transferred to her right hand the thin veils that throughout her -dancing, even in the abandon of its most voluptuous last moments, she -had held clutched snugly against her breasts, and lifted high her left -arm as she extended her right foot. Then she began anew the routine she -had just finished; she followed it, motion for motion, until in the -midst of the most lascivious portion of the dance she suddenly turned -her back to the Tetrarch and his company, and lowering her arm, without -missing one wanton movement of her writhing, weaving hips, she thrust -her arms, shoulder high, straight out to the sides. In each hand, -completely away from her perspiration-dampened, shimmering white body, -she clutched several of the bright-hued wisps of silk. - -From where the diners sat across the bright circle from her, the girl -appeared to be entirely nude, despite the thin bit of flesh-toned silk -that bound her loins. Her curling long black hair hanging unrestrained -down her back and across her shoulders added to the illusion. - -“But, my dear daughter, don’t you know that one never turns his back -upon the Tetrarch?” Antipas shouted, as he leaned out across the table, -his black eyes bulging as though they might leap from the sockets. - -The girl’s only response was to draw in her hands slightly and then -thrust them outward again in the pantomime of unveiling herself anew as, -in an ecstasy of voluptuous simulations, she rotated her slim hips to -the mounting frenzy of the music. - -“Wonderful! Wonderful!” Antipas clapped his fat hands together. -“Marvelous, my dear child! But must you continue to give your back to -the Tetrarch? Will you continue thus to tease us?” - -Still Salome made no reply to her stepfather. But slowly, as Antipas -clutched the table edge to pull to his feet, the girl, without breaking -the rhythm of her seductive undulations, began slowly to turn herself -about, her arms still outthrust from her sides. The Tetrarch, seeing it, -let go his prop and sank heavily to the couch; once more his screamed -approval signaled the guests to new applause, as every eye in eager -anticipation followed the gracefully suggestive motions of their royal -host’s stepdaughter. - -But hardly had the girl done a quarter turn toward the diners when -suddenly she drew the gossamer scarves protectively to herself, and, -whirling the remainder of the turn to face them, paused in her dancing. -Then with head tossed back and laughing, she scampered across the -spotlighted circle almost to the Tetrarch’s table. A pace from it she -stopped, turned her head, and with a nod signaled the musicians. As they -resumed the dancing rhythm, she began again her voluptuous gyrations. - -Claudia was close enough now to Salome to see that the girl’s -half-closed eyes, peering through slits beneath the darkly shadowed -lids, were glancing from the Tetrarch to her mother beside him. Salome, -she was suddenly convinced, was performing for Antipas not out of her -own volition but through Herodias’ devising. And what, Claudia wondered -again, could the crafty Tetrarchess be planning to accomplish through -this brazen flaunting of her daughter’s physical charms. - -But the Procurator’s wife had only a moment for conjecture; Salome -suddenly ceased her rhythmical writhings and stepped forward to lean -above the Tetrarch’s still burdened table. Teasingly, and before the -musicians were aware of her changed routine, she fumbled with the veils -still held pressed against her, and as Antipas, in a new frenzy of -excitement, sought to rise from his couch, she thrust her hands apart -and then, with a high squeal of laughter, crossed them again in front of -her. In the brief moment that her youthful but fully matured bosom had -been completely exposed to them, the Tetrarch had lunged out to clutch -her, but he had shattered his wine goblet instead and the girl, -screaming with laughter, had darted backward into the illuminated circle -to evade him. - -As a servant came running up to mop the spilled wine and remove the -broken glass, Antipas settled back on his couch. “Aha! The clever little -vixen was too quick for me,” he said, turning to face his wife. “But -I’ll....” He said no more. Herodias, Claudia saw, was unsmiling, grim. -But evidently she hadn’t meant for Antipas to see her in such a mood, -for quickly she affected a cloaking smile. “By the gods,” she said to -her husband, “the child is clever, isn’t she?” - -Salome was now in the center of the bright light. The music had died -away as the leader awaited his new instructions. The girl stood quietly -facing the Tetrarch and his guests, the colored veils clutched in her -crossed hands as though she were trying to cover herself in a chilling -breeze. Then she turned her head and lifted one veil-holding hand to -signal resumption of the dance music; the musicians swung quickly into a -fast rhythm that sent Salome dipping and prancing around the lighted -circle. As she came within inches of the Tetrarch’s table, Antipas once -more lunged toward her, but she had anticipated his attempt to catch her -and had darted out of reach. Laughing, she danced to the center of the -lighted spot; soon she was whirling around on the balls of her bare -feet, and as the tempo of the drums and the strings and the brasses -increased and the volume swelled, she circled as she pirouetted. -Opposite the Centurion Cornelius she released one of the veils and it -sailed across the table to be caught by the diner at his right. - -“Another!” shouted Antipas as she whirled past his couch but safely -beyond his reach. “Another! Let another one fly!” - -She was wheeling before the diners at her mother’s left when she loosed -a second veil; a man grabbed for it and thrust it beneath his pillow. -When she had spun around to the other side of the circle she held out -her arm and a yellow one sailed above the table. A man and a woman -grabbed for the floating gossamer; he caught it but laughingly -surrendered it to her. - -“More! More!” screamed the Tetrarch, and around the square of the tables -others joined in chorus. And when the girl let two of the shimmering -scarves sail away together, they screamed again. “More! More! Let them -fly!” - -Salome, her head back, laughing, began now to tease the Tetrarch and his -guests. Whirling around the rim of the patch of light, she would sweep -one hand with its veils outward with a flourish and then, without -releasing them, fold the arm back across the other one, which all the -while she had kept pressed close to her pirouetting white body. - -“She’s an actress, the little coquette!” Cornelius observed. “She knows -how to build up suspense. She understands how to please Antipas, too; -she’s got a good sense of the dramatic.” - -“Yes, and in another moment or so, unless I’m entirely wrong about her, -her dramatics will have Antipas—and maybe you, too—groveling.” But -quickly her expression changed to one of perplexity. “Still I wonder, -Cornelius, what Herodias is scheming. Surely she’s getting no pleasure -out of seeing her daughter make a spectacle of herself in public. There -must be something behind it; yet I can’t imagine what. What on earth -could she want so badly that she would go to such great...?” - -But her question remained unfinished, for the girl had pranced, still -pirouetting, into the center of the bright spot. She paused in her -turning and with both hands clutching the remaining veils modestly -across her chest, signaled with a motion of her head to the leader of -the musicians. Immediately the volume of the music began to increase and -the tempo to speed, and Salome whirled faster and faster in time with -the music’s crescendo. As she spun on the balls of her bare feet, the -veils that had been hanging to her knees streamed out in a kaleidoscope -of whirling color. The flutes more insistently joined their whining -pleas to the deeper invitations of the harps and the dulcimers and the -rhythmical throaty demands of the drums; the girl’s black hair, standing -out from her head as she whirled, made a dark spinning disk above the -circular rainbow of the scarves. - -Now Salome lifted one arm above her head, while she held the other -protectively before her, so that the dark whirling of her hair had above -it as well as beneath it a spinning rainbow of color. - -“I think I know what she’ll do next,” Claudia said, leaning to her right -to speak to Cornelius above the steadily mounting volume and frenzy of -the music. - -Antipas, too, must have anticipated it. “The other arm!” he shouted, as -he leaned forward, his eyes blazing with lechery. “Raise the other arm, -my dear child!” - -But Salome did not obey the Tetrarch. Instead, as she came pirouetting -nearer him, she lowered the arm she had just raised, and the two -whirling circles of color merged into one fast, revolving gossamer -flame. Faster the girl spun, and faster, faster the musicians played, -and higher swelled their instruments’ invitation to abandoned revelry. - -Antipas, who had sat back when the girl failed to heed his demand, -reached for his goblet, gulped his wine, and was replacing the -slender-stemmed glass when suddenly Salome, whirling hardly two paces -from his table, lifted both arms high into the air. The transparent -veils twisted upward with them to form above the girl’s swirling black -hair a spinning canopy of weaving and shifting bright colors. - -Once more the Tetrarch overturned his goblet, and the wine spilled -across the table. But when a servant came racing to his aid, Antipas -waved him away. The Tetrarch’s amazed eyes had focused upon the dancing -girl; he would permit nothing to obstruct, even for an instant, his view -of her. - -The spinning Salome in the circle of light from the wall lamp was nude -from the small gossamer triangle of her loins’ covering to the crown of -her head, and in the rapidity of her turning she appeared to be entirely -divested of clothing. - -Antipas caught at the edge of the table and pushed himself, swaying, to -his feet. “Nearer, child, nearer!” he shrieked. “Come closer! Come -closer to us! Come....” But his frenzied words were choked in a swirling -cloud of silken transparencies, for his stepdaughter had let go all her -veils and one had dipped full into the flushed, round face of the -Tetrarch of Galilee and Peraea. - -As Antipas struggled to free himself of the clinging, vision-obscuring -fluff of silk, the guests around the tables grabbed merrily for the -descending veils. But by the time the Tetrarch had jerked the scarf away -from his face, Salome had already disappeared; she had darted across the -spotlighted mosaic floor into the enfolding privacy of the triclinium’s -antechamber. Behind her, her audience thundered its applause. - -Moments later, before the birthday celebrants had settled completely -from the excitement of her dramatic exit, Salome, dressed as she had -been when she left to prepare for her dance, returned to the great -chamber and took her place beside her mother. Claudia, watching -discreetly, saw the Tetrarchess lightly squeeze the girl’s hand and bend -over to whisper into her ear. - -Antipas sat up and beaming turned to face his stepdaughter. “My child, -you have pleased the Tetrarch immensely,” he said, as he rubbed his -plump hands together. “I had no idea that you could dance with such -grace and charm. Your dancing has far excelled the finest efforts of the -women of Arabia; it has added immeasurably to the pleasure of the -Tetrarch and his guests.” He reached for his goblet, swallowed the wine, -then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “And now, my dear -daughter, you have but to name your reward for thus having entertained -so pleasantly the Tetrarch and our friends. Speak out, Salome. What -shall it be? A palace of your own beside the sea? A great pleasure yacht -with servants in shining livery and galley slaves to row it? Perchance a -long visit to Rome to renew your friendships in the capital, with a -handsome allowance to cover every gift your fancy may envision? Speak -up, now. Let your wish be known, and it shall be granted.” - -“Even, Sire, to the half of your tetrarchy?” - -Antipas blinked, hesitated a moment, and then his round face brightened. -“Yes, if you ask it, even to the half of the tetrarchy, though I should -think a marble palace or a yacht....” - -“Have no fear, Sire,” Salome interrupted. “I wish not the half of your -tetrarchy or any part of it. Nor do I need or desire a marble palace or -a pleasure boat, or a trip at this time to Rome.” - -“Ah, but I know what will please you,” Antipas spoke up. “A new -wardrobe, full of beautiful garments fashioned of the finest silks -brought from the Orient or woven on the looms in Phoenicia....” - -“No, not gowns or shoes or houses or yachts or journeys to Rome or gold -and silver....” - -“But come, my dear child, you must be repaid for the pleasure you have -given us. I beg of you, name your any desire....” - -“And the Tetrarch will grant it?” Salome stood up, facing the ruler of -Galilee and Peraea, just beyond her mother. “You swear it, Sire?” - -“By the beard of the High Priest, I swear it, Salome. I shall grant -whatever you ask of me, even to the half of the tetrarchy.” - -“Then, Sire,” she said, smiling demurely, “my request is simple and will -rob the Tetrarch’s treasury of not one denarius. It is my wish”—she -paused and looked the happily smiling Antipas full in his round -face—“that the Tetrarch present to me on a silver platter the head of -the Wilderness preacher called John the Baptizer.” - -Claudia and Cornelius had been leaning out over their plates, avidly -following the conversation of the girl and her stepfather. - -“By all the gods!” Claudia whispered, without taking her eyes from the -still calmly smiling Salome. “Now I understand. Herodias, by the -Bountiful Mother....” - -But she said no more, for Antipas was pulling to his feet. “Surely, -child, I have not heard you correctly. Surely you would not wish to have -the head of a man....” - -“But you did hear correctly, Sire. And you have sworn to grant me my -wish. I ask only for the head of the Prophet John.” - -The Tetrarch, braced against the table’s edge, looked to his right and -then left along the tables. The eyes of his guests were fastened on -their plates; not one face was raised to help him. Antipas stood, -drained of all levity; the impact of the girl’s inhuman request, so -simply and heartlessly presented, had sobered him. He turned again to -Salome and tried to affect a smile. - -“Were you a man, a soldier, perhaps, seeking revenge upon an enemy ... -but for a beautiful young woman of such charm and culture, who has -danced for us so delightfully”—he shook his head sadly—“such an utterly -strange request for a beautiful woman.” He seemed to be thinking aloud, -talking more to himself than to the girl. “To want the head of a prophet -of Israel, a man held in such esteem by so many of our Jewish subjects, -a prophet who may indeed have been sent of Israel’s God....” He broke -off, shaking his head as if in deep perplexity. - -Claudia, watching Salome now, saw Herodias reach out and gently grasp -her daughter’s arm. The girl, still standing, smiled cynically and -tossed her head. “Nevertheless, Sire, that is my request. If, however, -the Tetrarch wishes to dishonor his oath before this company and refuse -me....” - -The Tetrarch banged his fist on the table top. “The Tetrarch never -dishonors an oath!” he shouted. “He withdraws no promises he makes.” He -turned to face the two guardsmen at the door, the soldiers who had -brought the Wilderness prophet into the banquet room and had escorted -him back to the dungeon. “Guardsmen, you have heard the request of the -Princess Salome. Go you now into the dungeon and carry out her request.” -He paused. They stood stiffly at attention, awaiting his final command. -“Do you understand?” - -The men glanced at one another, then faced the Tetrarch. “We understand, -Sire,” one said. - -“Then go.” - -Quickly the two strode out of the chamber; their footsteps echoed as -they marched down the hall. Antipas slumped on his couch, then lowered -his head between his hands. Salome took her seat. She smiled as she and -her mother whispered. The guests kept their places and were silent; the -servants, moving about to replenish the wine goblets, walked -noiselessly. - -“The Tetrarch is making a monstrous mistake,” Cornelius said. - -“Because he’s giving in to Herodias?” Claudia inquired. - -“Because he’s ordering the prophet’s death.” - -“Then you”—a faint smile crossed her face—“are afraid of the Jews’ one -god?” - -“I could be,” he answered unhesitatingly. “But that’s not my reason. I’m -sure it’s....” He stopped. A servant had approached the Tetrarch’s -couch. - -“The Centurion Longinus?” The Tetrarch raised his bulky frame to a -sitting position. “Indeed, bring him to us.” - -At the sound of the Tetrarch’s words, Claudia looked up; her eyes -followed the retreating servant. Antipas turned to her. “The Centurion -Longinus has just arrived at Machaerus,” he said; “I’ve sent for him. -Shall we make a place for him between you and Centurion Cornelius -perhaps, my dear?” He grinned. “He must be famished from the long -journey to this forsaken outpost.” - -A moment later the servant escorted the centurion to the Tetrarch’s -couch. Antipas greeted him cordially, presented him to the diners, and -ordered the servants to set him a place at the table. When after a -minute he was settled beside her, Claudia found his hand on the couch -and squeezed it hard. “It’s so wonderful to have you here,” she said. “I -can hardly wait to hear the news from Rome.” - -“I can hardly wait to be with you ... alone,” he said. “It’s been so -long, and I had no idea I’d find you here.” He turned to Cornelius at -his right. “I’ve got much to tell you, Centurion,” he announced, “and, -no doubt, much to hear from you too.” - -“But what on earth are you doing at Machaerus, Longinus? Where have you -been before this?” - -“Tiberias,” he answered, “I came there after landing at Caesarea. I had -orders from Sejanus to convey to the Tetrarch. When I reached Tiberias -and found that he and his guests had departed for Machaerus, I set out -to follow. It was urgent that I see the Tetrarch as quickly as possible; -I didn’t dare await his return to his palace.” - -Antipas had overheard. “We are happy that you came, Centurion, but what -mission could you have that would be so urgent?” He smiled, and his -manner was most agreeable. “A new style of glassware, perhaps, that you -wish to sell to the Tetrarch?” - -“No, Sire, nothing to sell you ... now, at any rate. It’s a more -important mission. I’m coming to you from the Prefect Sejanus who is -sending you instructions in the name of the Emperor, for whom he is -acting in this case and after conferring with Tiberius at Capri. I -assure you it is important and urgent, and I desire an audience with you -at the first moment you may be available, Sire, in order to transmit to -you the instructions from Rome.” - -“Indeed, Centurion”—the Tetrarch’s flippant manner had disappeared; his -countenance, at the centurion’s mention of Sejanus and the Emperor, was -suddenly grave—“if it is that urgent, we can leave the dining chamber at -once. But that would cause a lot of talk, I suppose. Must you confer -with me in secret, Centurion? These are all dear friends, my wife, the -Procurator’s wife, Centurion Cornelius. Is it necessary that the -information you bring me from Rome be kept from them?” - -“Indeed, no, Sire. In fact, they would know soon anyway, as quickly as -you acted. And the Prefect desires that you act immediately.” He paused. -Antipas nodded. “In fact, Sire, it is fortunate that you are here at -Machaerus; your orders can be put into effect within minutes after they -have been issued. The Prefect’s instructions to you have to do with that -strange fellow we encountered along the Jordan as we were going to -Tiberias, the one you had arrested and brought here to be imprisoned, -you remember, the Wilderness prophet called John the Baptizer.” - -“John the Baptizer!” The Tetrarch’s face had paled. Herodias, who had -been listening, leaned forward; her countenance was a mask. “But what of -John,” the Tetrarch began, “what...?” He paused, licked his dry lips, -and swallowed. - -“Sire, it’s nothing to be unduly concerned about,” Longinus replied. -“It’s only a policy matter. You know that Sejanus and Tiberius are -always stressing the importance of keeping the Jews happy, at least to -the extent that they won’t attempt to revolt. And since John is so -popular among them, the Prefect believes that your release of the -prophet will be pleasing to the Jews and will, to that extent, -strengthen Rome’s rule ... and the Tetrarch’s. There’s no point in -needlessly offending them, you see. That’s why he sent me to you with -the suggestion, Sire, that you release John at once. He has prepared -notices, to be signed by you, for posting in Tiberias, Jerusalem, -Caesarea....” - -The Tetrarch said nothing but buried his face in his hands. Herodias, -erect and unmoving, stared straight ahead. - -“But, Sire....” - -Longinus said no more, for Claudia had suddenly grasped his arm. He -turned and stared toward the doorway through which, a moment before the -centurion’s arrival, the two palace guardsmen had disappeared. Now the -two were returning. They advanced straight toward the Tetrarch. One man -was carrying, chest high and at arms’ length, a large silver tray of the -type used by servants at Machaerus for serving food. On the tray was a -rounded, gory mass. - -“But that can’t be for me, surely,” Longinus whispered to her. “It looks -like raw meat, bloody.... Great Jove!” The man bearing the tray had come -close enough for them to see his ghastly offering. “By all the great and -little gods!” He twisted to face the girl, his expression suddenly -aghast. His voice, when at last he spoke, was hoarse and unbelieving. -“The Wilderness prophet?” - -She nodded. “Yes, the Tetrarch had him beheaded ... just a moment ago, -perhaps even after you arrived here.” She turned her head to look away -from the guardsman’s horrifying burden. - -But Longinus saw. The prophet’s head, with blood dripping from the stump -of the severed neck, lay on one ear in the tangled, gore-smeared mat of -his long, black hair. His beard, too, was blood-streaked, and his face -and forehead were smeared; blood had run down into the corners of his -eyes. Wide-open and set in staring rigidity, the eyes seemed to be -trying to communicate with him. - -“Sire,” the guardsmen said, as he reached the table and held out the -profaned tray, “the Tetrarch’s orders have been carried out. The head of -the desert preacher....” - -“No! No!” screamed Antipas, as he held up his right hand before his eyes -and pointed with the other toward his wife and her daughter. “Not here! -It’s ... it’s theirs! Put it there!” - -The guardsman set the tray down in front of Salome, who glanced at it -idly and then lowered her head. Herodias stared unabashed at the pitiful -profanation before them, and then after a moment she, too, looked away. - -Now the Tetrarch lowered his shielding hand and calmly turned to his -left to face Herodias and his stepdaughter. His demeanor, Longinus saw, -was suddenly changed. When he spoke his voice was calm, modulated. “The -Tetrarch of Galilee and Peraea does not dishonor a promise made,” he -said. “My daughter, you have the reward you sought. Now what will you do -with it?” - -The girl turned to stare an instant at her questioner. Then she glanced -again toward the head on the tray. Shock, nausea, sudden fear, horror -curdled her countenance, and she threw up a protecting hand to shut out -the fearful sight. “Give it to Mother!” she cried out, her voice shrill, -and tense. Jumping to her feet, she fled from the great chamber. - -“Take it away!” Herodias screamed to a servant at her elbow. “Dispose of -it ... quickly!” Without a word to her husband, she reached for her wine -goblet and drank; then she drew up her feet, smoothed the skirt of her -glistening stola, and settled herself comfortably on her elbow. - -Equally calm, Antipas leaned over to speak to Longinus. “I regret, -Centurion, that you didn’t reach Machaerus a few minutes earlier. -But....” He gestured with resignation, then sat back on his couch. He -was reaching for his wine glass when a palace servant approached, -bowing. The Tetrarch nodded to him. “Yes?” - -“Sire, a delegation has just arrived; the men declare they were sent by -King Aretas. They maintain their mission is most urgent and they -petition—indeed, Sire, they demand—that the Tetrarch give them audience -this evening.” - -“From King Aretas?” A heavy scowl darkened the Tetrarch’s full, round -face. “Most urgent, they say?” He was thoughtfully silent a moment. Then -he turned, glaring, to the obeisant servant. “Then bring them to us.” - -“But, Sire”—the bowing man was rubbing his hands together nervously, -palpably fearful—“they suggested that perhaps the Tetrarch would wish to -receive them privately in his council chamber....” - -“No! Who are they to tell the Tetrarch where he must receive them! Bring -them to us, at once!” - -“Yes, Sire. Yes, immediately.” The timorous fellow was backing away, -bowing, as he rubbed his knuckles in his palm. - -“Did you hear what the servant said?” Claudia whispered to Longinus, as -the Tetrarch twisted his heavy hulk the other way to watch the -retreating fellow. “I wonder....” - -“Yes, so do I. And I’m sure Herodias does, too.” He turned to speak to -Cornelius on his right. “You heard the servant?” Cornelius nodded. -“Sounds like more trouble for the Tetrarch, doesn’t it?” - -“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Cornelius agreed. “This seems to be a bad -night for the old fellow, a tough night, indeed.” - -The representatives of the Arabian king were formally polite, rigidly -reserved. - -“It is no pleasant mission on which we have been sent here, O Tetrarch -Herod,” the spokesman of the visiting Arabians announced, once they had -been presented to Antipas, “and we regret that we must speak as we have -been ordered to speak, Sire, and particularly that ears other than the -Tetrarch’s will hear the message we have been commanded to bring you -from His Majesty, King Aretas. But the Tetrarch has so ordered it, and -we must obey.” He paused, and from the fold of his robe pulled forth a -rolled document. - -“Go on, speak,” Antipas told him. “The Tetrarch wishes on his -birthday”—he affected a grim smile—“that nothing be withheld from his -beloved wife and his guests. The Tetrarch is prepared to hear the King’s -message.” - -The man nodded, and unrolled the document. “Sire, I have here the King’s -message to the Tetrarch of Galilee and Peraea. But would not the -Tetrarch prefer to have it read to him privately and then later, if the -Tetrarch might still wish it, have it read to this assembled group?” - -“Read it, now. Go on with it. Let us all hear the King’s message.” - -“Very well, Sire.” He bowed and then, shifting his position so that the -light from the wall lamps fell more directly on the parchment, held it -out from him and began to read. But when the stiffly formal greeting was -concluded, he raised his eyes questioningly. - -“Continue,” said the Tetrarch. - -The man nodded, and once more his eyes returned to the out-held -document. “‘King Aretas declares that the Tetrarch Herod Antipas in -sending his faithful wife, the King’s beloved daughter, a bill of -divorcement, after having deprived her of the honors and privileges of -the Tetrarchess of Galilee and Peraea, which honors and privileges -without right he conferred upon her successor, has grievously injured -and insulted the King’s daughter, his royal house, and the person of the -King himself.’” - -Claudia gently squeezed Longinus’ hand beside hers on the couch, but she -dared venture no whisper. Slyly, though, they both glanced toward -Herodias who sat eying the Arabian, a malevolent, frozen smile on her -plainly flushed face. - -The reader looked up again, but only for an instant, and then resumed -his reading of the Arabian ruler’s grievances. “‘Now, therefore’”—he -cleared his throat—“‘King Aretas demands that the Tetrarch Herod Antipas -seek to make what amends he can by providing certain reparations to King -Aretas, the terms of which shall be agreed upon in conference of the -Tetrarch and his ministers with the King’s ministers who bear this -message. But King Aretas further demands that before such negotiations -are entered into, the Tetrarch Herod Antipas must put away or reduce to -second wife the woman he now calls Tetrarchess and restore to her -rightful place as Tetrarchess and first wife the King’s beloved -daughter. He further demands....’” - -“‘_He_ demands!’ Everything is ‘_He_ demands’!” Herodias had sprung to -her feet, her eyes blazing, her shaking finger extended across the table -toward the suddenly interrupted Arabian. Now she turned fiercely upon -the Tetrarch. “Didn’t you hear him, O Tetrarch? ‘_He_ demands!’ That old -goat of Arabia demands of you, Herod, Tetrarch of Galilee and Peraea. He -writes you an evil, insulting message abusing you and your wife, and you -sit here calmly listening while that man reads it before these your -guests and me your Tetrarchess....” - -“But, my beloved Herodias”—Antipas clutched the table’s edge as he -straggled to get to his feet—“these men are only the messengers of King -Aretas. What you hear are not this man’s words, they are the King’s.” - -“Of course I know that, Antipas; I am not entirely a fool. I know they -are the King’s words, but don’t they say that Aretas has empowered these -men to represent him in your negotiations over me? Over me, do you hear? -Negotiations designed to force me from the palace in Tiberias, to return -_her_....” - -Gently Antipas caught his wife’s arm and tried to calm her, to get her -to take her seat. “Of course not, my dear, of course you’ll not be sent -away, you’ll never be supplanted....” - -She jerked her arm free, turned upon him, eyes blazing now in utter -fury. “Then send them back to her doting old father! Send them packing, -Antipas!” She shook her finger under his nose. “Or else, by all the -great and little gods, I myself will go away!” - -Antipas faced the still shocked Arabian. “Perhaps you had best excuse -yourself,” he said evenly. “Tomorrow, in the calm of our council -chamber, we shall be able....” - -“No!” shouted Herodias. “Let them leave tonight, immediately. I can -abide their insulting presence here no longer!” - -The Tetrarch, ignoring his wife’s outburst, beckoned to a servant -hovering nearby. “Escort these men into a suitable chamber, and see that -they are adequately provided for with our best food and wine,” he -commanded, “and after they have dined, show them to their bedchambers. -They must be in need of replenishment and rest after their arduous -journey to Machaerus.” He bowed to the delegation’s leader. “We shall -defer further consideration of the matter until the morning. We are all -greatly fatigued and agitated.” - -The servant stepped forward and bowed to the visitors. They in turn, -without any further word from their spokesman, bowed to the Tetrarch and -turned with the escorting servant to withdraw from the triclinium. - -Herodias, seated now and apparently calm, twisted around to watch them -depart. But when at the doorway Aretas’ spokesman glanced over his -shoulder toward the Tetrarch, she suddenly grabbed the goblet beside her -plate. “Go!” she screamed. “Go! Go!” With all her strength she hurled -the goblet toward the man; it shattered on the wall near the door. As a -servant came running to pick up the broken bits of glass, she sank to -the couch, pulled up her sandaled feet, and, sobbing wildly, buried her -face in the pillow. - - - - - Judaea - - - [Illustration: decorative glyph] - - - - - 32 - - -The Tetrarch’s caravan had reached the flatland where the narrow Plain -of Esdraelon pushing eastward between Mount Gilboa and Little Hermon -touched the Jordan valley. There Longinus and Claudia had taken leave of -the returning group. - -Cornelius had wanted to send a detail of guardsmen to escort them the -remainder of the way to Caesarea. “You never know when one of these -zealot gangs may come swooping down on you,” he had protested to -Longinus. “And if the Emperor’s stepdaughter should be captured, with -Senator Piso’s son, and held for ransom ... well, by Jove, Longinus, you -can imagine the uproar there’d be in Rome.” - -But Longinus had refused the offer. He had assured Cornelius that their -little party, he, Claudia, and the two servants she had brought with -her, would join the first caravan headed toward Caesarea; until one came -along they would remain at the nearby inn. - -Though the Tetrarch’s parting words had been polite, he had seemed -deeply meditative, still mired in the haze of introspection into which -the startling twist of his birthday celebration had plunged him. Nor had -the results of his meeting the next day with the representatives of King -Aretas enlivened him, for though he had yielded nothing to his former -father-in-law’s demands, he knew that the Arabians had departed in a -bitter mood that for him boded no good. That this unfortunate series of -events was known to two Roman centurions and the Procurator’s wife, and -particularly to Longinus, who had come to Machaerus on a mission from -the Prefect Sejanus whose accomplishment had been so disastrously -thwarted by the Tetrarch himself, made the situation all the more -distressing. - -Herodias, on the other hand, apparently had recovered completely from -the loss of presence suffered at the Tetrarch’s banquet. She spoke with -her usual polished ease. “Soon you must visit us again at Tiberias, my -dear,” she said to Claudia, as the Tetrarch’s caravan prepared to resume -its journey, “and bring Longinus to protect you from our plundering -zealots.” She smiled pertly. “Longinus, help her arrange it. Let’s try -to get together in Jerusalem, perhaps during the Feast of Tabernacles.” - -They had ridden at once to the inn, which sat at the edge of the road -that led from the Jordan ford straight westward past Mount Gilboa to the -Samaria highroad from Galilee. - -“We will require two rooms,” Longinus told the proprietor, a beak-nosed -Jew with an unkempt, wine-stained beard. “The manservant will wish to -sleep near the horses; if there is a place in the stables....” - -“Yes, soldier”—the innkeeper had observed immediately that his guest was -wearing a Roman military uniform—“he can bed down comfortably there. And -for you and your wife”—he paused, questioning, and Longinus nodded—“one -of the larger chambers, yes, and for the maid a smaller one, adjoining -yours, perhaps?” - -“It will not be necessary that it adjoin ours; wherever you can -conveniently place her will be satisfactory.” - -So a small room down the narrow hallway from theirs had been assigned to -Tullia, and now the maid had retired to it, and the manservant to a mat -at the stable. Claudia and Longinus had supper and, fatigued from the -journey down from Machaerus to the Jericho plain, they retired to their -chamber. - -Longinus, seated on a low stool, was unbuckling his sandals. “I do hope -a caravan for Caesarea comes along soon,” he said. “I’m anxious to get -there; I’m almost tempted to venture the journey on our own. But with so -many of those zealots in the hills....” - -“Then you have tired of me this quickly, you can’t wait to return me to -the Procurator?” she asked innocently. - -“I’m getting tired of returning you _to_ the Procurator,” he said. - -“And after every time with you I’m more loath to go back to him myself.” -The mask of innocence was gone; she was entirely serious now. “Longinus, -isn’t there something we can do, some solution? We simply can’t go on -like this indefinitely.” She had finished undressing; walking over to -the bed, she pulled down the cover, slid beneath it, and pulled it up to -her chin. “By all the gods, Longinus, there must be a better fate for -us. Surely the granddaughter of an Emperor, the stepdaughter of another -Emperor....” - -“But that’s exactly why there is a problem,” he interrupted. “If you -were just a Roman equestrian, you wouldn’t have been forced to marry -Pilate in the first place.” He kicked off one of his sandals and twisted -about to face her. “Claudia, you could slip away from him and we could -go away somewhere, but that would hardly be a solution, though for me -certainly it would be a permanent one.” He smiled vapidly. “Also you -could ask Tiberius—and that means, of course, Sejanus, too—to permit you -to divorce him; I hardly think, however, that they would allow you to do -it, and then the situation would be worse than it is now; they would -watch us all the more and doubtless send us to separate far distance -provinces, the gods only know where.” He considered a moment. “There’s -the possibility, though—probability, I hope—that Pilate will soon do -something that will so infuriate Sejanus that he will depose him as -Procurator and perhaps banish him to another remote province. Then they -might allow you to divorce him and marry me, provided we went off to -Gaul or”—he shrugged—“Britannia or Hispania or some other faraway place. -But I’m not sure of that.” He removed the other sandal and placed it -beside the first one. “That is probably our best chance, Claudia, maybe -our only one as long as Tiberius and Sejanus stay in power. But even -then I can’t proceed too fast against Pilate, because then Sejanus would -surely suspect that you and I....” - -“But doesn’t he think already that you want to marry me?” - -“At first he did, I suspect. But now I think he’s convinced that our -interest in each other is ... well, a purely physical one. And Antipas, -I’m sure, has the same notion.” - -“Certainly Antipas isn’t likely to cause us trouble. He’s in enough -trouble himself to keep occupied with his own affairs.” - -“Yes. Between Sejanus and Aretas he’s likely to be very busy for the -next few months. And that gets me back—after you started me on another -tack—to why I’m so eager to be in Caesarea. I’ve got to get off a report -to Sejanus. I want him to hear from me what happened at Machaerus before -someone else gets the chance to tell him. He may think my dallying -allowed Antipas to behead the Wilderness fellow, and also he may wonder -why I didn’t prevent the trouble between Antipas and Aretas from coming -to such an acute crisis. So I want to get my report off as quickly as -possible, do you understand?” - -“Yes, I do understand. You’re quite right, it’s very important. I -wouldn’t be surprised if Antipas got into a war with Aretas because of -Herodias. And that would bring the Roman legionaries into the fighting, -of course, and surely Pilate would be drawn in, and you.” - -“Very probably, yes. Certainly it would involve Pilate sooner or later. -And, of course, the Legate Vitellius would be implicated. Sejanus will -certainly call on him to defend Galilee should Aretas attack Antipas.” - -“Then the Tetrarch’s marrying Herodias may ruin him ... and Pilate, -too,” Claudia said thoughtfully. She lay, head back, watching him finish -his preparations for bed. - -“You sound as though you hope it will.” - -She stretched herself seductively under the light covering. “Well?” Her -quick smile revealed a suddenly changed mood. “But for tonight at least -let’s think no more of Antipas or Pilate. Tomorrow perhaps there’ll be a -caravan along, and we’ll be starting for Caesarea.” Gingerly she turned -down the covering beside her and held out white, bare arms to him. -“Hurry, Longinus,” she said softly. “The night is wasting.” - - - - - 33 - - -Well ahead of his caravan returning to the palace at Tiberias raced the -startling and, to many, the highly provocative report of the Tetrarch’s -beheading of John the Baptist in fulfillment of a rash promise made to -his wife’s dancing daughter. - -The delegation that had gone down to Machaerus to intercede for the -prophet’s release had brought back the tragic news; quickly the story -had spread to Jerusalem and to Ophel, the teeming Lower City into which -countless poor were squalidly compressed, and beyond there on past the -villages of Judaea and Samaria, all the way down into Galilee. Along the -shores of the little sea and in many a huddle of modest homes, and here -and there in the pretentious houses of the rich, Israelites were shaking -their heads sadly and muttering imprecations upon the Idumaean ruler of -Galilee and Peraea. - -With the account of the Wilderness prophet’s execution went the story, -too, of how King Aretas of Arabia had sent his couriers to Machaerus to -threaten Herod Antipas with war because of the Tetrarch’s having -divorced the King’s daughter and made her supplanter Herodias his -Tetrarchess. Soon rumors began to spread that war with Aretas was -imminent and that the Arabian ruler was likely any day to bring his army -surging across the borders of Israel to punish his former son-in-law. - -Even before the arrival at Caesarea of Claudia and Longinus, the stories -from Machaerus had reached the Procurator Pontius Pilate. Their -lateness, she explained to Pilate, had been unavoidable; they had waited -to join a caravan journeying westward rather than risk the hazards of -traveling with only two servants through a region frequented by robbers -and zealot revolutionaries. - -Pilate appeared to accept without reservation her explanation; he -indicated in no way that he might be jealous of the centurion. His -attitude exasperated Claudia all the more. - -“He can’t be that stupid,” she fumed one day to Tullia, with whom she -had long come to talk frankly and in utter confidence. “He surely knows -about Longinus and me. Yet if he’s in the least bit jealous of the -centurion, he’s careful not to let me know. It’s insulting, Tullia, his -indifference to me. It’s humiliating. Why do you suppose he acts that -way?” - -“But you are the stepdaughter of the Emperor, Mistress. What could he -do, even though he is the Procurator?” - -“He could be a man!” Claudia snapped. “He could kill Longinus, or try -to, and give me a lashing!” - -The maid shook her head. “No, Mistress, not even a Procurator would dare -lay a hand on you, or anyone for whom you held high regard.” - -“But I’m his wife, Tullia.” - -“Yes, but you are also the Emperor’s stepdaughter, Mistress.” - -Immediately upon their return to Caesarea from Machaerus, Longinus had -prepared a comprehensive report to Sejanus in which he related the -unfortunate events that had come to such a dramatic climax at the -Tetrarch’s birthday banquet. The message was dispatched to Rome on an -Alexandrian grain ship that had paused for a day in the harbor at -Caesarea. - -In the several weeks that followed he saw little of Claudia. During that -period he went on a mission for Sergius Paulus to Jerusalem and upon his -return took command while Sergius was away at Antioch in response to a -summons from the Legate Vitellius, who commanded the Roman forces in -that entire eastern region. Sergius, Longinus was sure, had been ordered -to Antioch because of the Arabian king’s threat to attack Herod Antipas. -The Legate, he reasoned, was planning to have his forces ready for -action in the event that Aretas should challenge Rome by sending his -army against the Tetrarch. The centurion presumed that Vitellius had -summoned all military leaders stationed in Galilee—and possibly even the -Tetrarch himself—to meet him at Antioch. Longinus learned that his -guesswork had been correct; the meeting had been held, and the Legate, -Sergius said, had been blunt in his conversations with the Tetrarch. - -Shortly after the Caesarea garrison commander resumed his post, a -message from Senator Piso for his son arrived. It instructed Longinus to -set out as quickly as he could for the glassworks. Production had -decreased, and the quality of the ware being manufactured was -deteriorating. Morale among the slaves, his father reported, seemed at -its lowest point. Longinus was to do whatever might be necessary to -speed up the plant’s production and improve the quality of the -glassware. The Prefect, his father added, was in complete concurrence -with these instructions. A fresh supply of slaves, said the senator, was -being sent out to Phoenicia by the Prefect; the slaves were being -shipped aboard a government trireme that was leaving Rome within a week -after the vessel bearing this letter would sail for Joppa. Longinus, the -letter suggested, might even go aboard this letter-bearing vessel when -it put in at Caesarea. - -Little had happened in Rome since his departure for Palestine, his -father reported. The Emperor was still at Capri, and Sejanus was -directing the government of the Empire. His mother sent her love; she -was quite well, though of late she had been disturbed at the -indisposition of her little Maltese dog. But the animal, thanks be to -Jove and the patient ministrations of Longinus’ mother, was now -recovered. - -“Try to achieve as quickly as possible a new production record at the -glassworks,” his father concluded. The Prefect was keeping an eye on the -figures, and it would be good business to earn the Prefect’s early -approval. “Don’t spare the slaves; they are the cheapest item in the -operational cost; replacements can be made quickly available.” - -His eyes scanned the letter, hardly seeing the words. Ever the patrician -Romans, his parents ... his mother concerned with the indisposition of -that pampered, silken-haired pet, his father thinking only of pleasing -Sejanus and building up for the Prefect and himself more millions of -sesterces. Don’t spare the slaves; the life of a slave is the cheapest -item in the production of beautiful glassware for the tables of -patrician Rome and Alexandria and Antioch and Athens. Work them until -they fall dead, and heave them into the flaming furnaces. - -Longinus thought of the old slave. What would Cornelius think of his -father’s letter, his father’s philosophy? But Cornelius’ father, too, is -of the equestrian class; perhaps he shares the views of Senator Piso. -Cornelius, of course, would disapprove. He would say that men are not -the cheapest items in the making of glassware or anything else. He would -hold with the Galilean carpenter that every man, Roman senator or Gallic -slave or black savage from Ethiopia, is a son of that jealous Yahweh of -the Jews and possessor of an immortal spirit. - -And I, suddenly thought Longinus, do I hold with my father or with -Cornelius and the Galilean? - -The day after Herod’s birthday banquet Cornelius had related to him in -dramatic detail what he contended was the Galilean’s miraculous healing -of Lucian, but Longinus had shrugged off his friend’s fervor with the -observation that once more, as in the case of Chuza’s son, the clever -carpenter from Nazareth had successfully judged the hour at which the -fever would break. - -Of course his urbane, affluent father, rather than his Jewish-influenced -friend the centurion and the Galilean mystic, was right. Even without -using a stylus and tablet one can prove that a slave is the cheapest of -the several things involved in the making of fine glassware; his -father’s statement to that effect was quickly demonstrable. And yet.... - -Longinus shrugged and put away the letter. The ship, he discovered some -moments later, would be at the Caesarea port only long enough to load -supplies and freight; it would sail for Tyre within four or five hours. - -He packed quickly and sent his bags to the dock to be put aboard. Then -he rushed to the Procurator’s Palace to tell Pilate and his wife -good-by. Happily, the Procurator had gone out. But Longinus could have -only a few minutes with Claudia. - -“I won’t be up in Phoenicia long,” he reassured her. “It shouldn’t take -many days before I get the operation of the plant reorganized. And even -before I finish the task, if I find it takes longer than I now think it -will, I may be able to board a vessel and come down here for a visit. -Claudia, why couldn’t you arrange a journey”—his tone was eager—“over to -Tiberias for another stay in the Tetrarch’s Palace? That is, if in the -meantime”—his grin lightened the tenseness of the moment—“Aretas hasn’t -driven him and Herodias away? But if they’re still around, well, then I -could just by chance select that same time to visit Cornelius.” - -When he could stay with her no longer she summoned the palace -sedan-chair bearers and rode with him down to the dock. After he had -embarked and the ship was moving across the harbor to gain the open sea -beyond the long breakwater, she stepped again into the sedan chair and -was borne to the palace. - - - - - 34 - - -But the biting, sharp winds of spring, sweeping down from the mountains -of Judah across the lower Shefelah and the region of the coast, had -subsided into the still and enervating heat of summer, and the Centurion -Longinus had not yet returned to his post. - -Nor had Claudia received any message from him. Sergius Paulus, too, had -heard nothing, as she found when on several occasions she had discreetly -inquired about the centurion. The Procurator’s wife began to wonder if -Longinus had been recalled to Rome and sent away by Sejanus on a mission -to some remote province of the Empire, perhaps even as far, the gods -forbid, as Brittania. - -Then one day in late summer Cornelius appeared at the Procurator’s -Palace. Pilate, it happened, had ridden down the coast to Joppa; Claudia -and the centurion could talk freely. Hardly were they seated on the -terrace overlooking the Great Sea when she confronted him, eyes solemnly -inquiring, her forehead wrinkled. - -“Cornelius, what can have happened to Longinus? I haven’t had a word -from him or concerning him since he left here for the glassworks so many -weeks ago. I can’t understand....” - -“You’ve no cause to be worried,” he interrupted, laughing. “He is still -at the glassworks, or at any rate he was when I was there recently. He’s -been working hard. The plant had deteriorated considerably; he said it -required more work than he had anticipated to restore its operation to -normal. He’s been hoping all along to get back to Caesarea to see you, -but he just hasn’t had the opportunity. And he thought it best not to -send any written messages; unfortunately, there’s been no one coming -this way with whom he dared entrust a spoken one ... except for me, of -course. He gave me a message for you, but I’ve been delayed getting -here. He thinks you heard from him weeks ago.” - -“And what was the message he sent?” - -“Just what I’ve told you.” He grinned. “That he was well, working hard, -and hoped he would soon be in position to return to Caesarea.” - -“That was all?” - -“Should there have been more?” His eyes were teasing. “Yes, he said to -tell you that as far as he was concerned, nothing has changed. He’s -still looking to the future. Is that the message you sought?” - -“Yes, and expected. And should you see him before I do, you may tell him -that my message to him is the same. But, Cornelius”—her expression -suddenly was earnest, almost pained—“things move so slowly; the future -seems so far ahead, and the waiting is so long.” - -“Maybe not, Claudia. Maybe just around the turn of the road you’ll....” - -“But I can see no turn.” - -“The situation out here just now is so explosive that any moment could -bring great changes,” he insisted, “and overnight the problem you and -Longinus have could be solved. Pilate and Herod both could lose their -favored positions and, conceivably, their heads. And speaking of Herod -reminds me that I was to give you another message, too.” - -“From whom, Herodias?” - -“Yes.” - -“She wants me to return with you to Tiberias?” - -“No, not that. But she does want you to meet her in Jerusalem in October -at the Feast of Tabernacles. Pilate undoubtedly will go again this year, -and Herod too; after beheading the Wilderness prophet and possibly -involving Galilee in a war with Aretas, Antipas will surely want to go -up to the Temple to worship the Jewish Yahweh; it’s the only way -left—aside from dropping Herodias—for him to strengthen himself with his -subjects.” He paused and leaned forward, smiling. “I’ll have to take my -century up to Jerusalem, Claudia, as I do on all such occasions when -multitudes of Jews assemble there, and I’ll try to bring Longinus over -to Tiberias to make the journey to Jerusalem with me. If you’ll promise -to join us there, I’m sure I can promise you I’ll have the centurion -with me when I come.” - - - - - 35 - - -Almost overnight Jerusalem had been transformed. - -Through the long drought of the summer months the ancient city had grown -more drab with the deepening of fine dust upon its houses, its public -buildings, and even upon the resplendent Temple itself. - -But now, with the coming of autumn and the annual great Feast of -Tabernacles, Jerusalem had bloomed into a veritable forest of greenery. -As far as Claudia could see from her perch high on a balcony of the -Tower of Antonia—down into the adjoining Temple area, along the terraced -rise of Mount Zion, southward to sweltering Ophel and beyond the always -smoking gehenna of Hinnom’s vale to the bluffs above it on the Bethlehem -road, and eastward past the Brook Kidron and the Garden of Gethsemane up -the slope of the Mount of Olives—stretched an almost unbroken canopy of -green boughs now beginning to wilt. Balconies, roof tops, the grounds -about the Temple walls, every unfilled small plot of the cluttered soil -of Jewry’s holy city, were covered with these improvised, temporary -dwellings. - -The Feast of Tabernacles, Tullia had explained to her mistress, was the -Hebrew festival marking the end of the harvesting season and the early -beginning of the rains. It was an occasion of national thanksgiving to -Yahweh, one that commemorated the Israelites’ years of wandering in the -desert wilderness where, after their escape from Egyptian bondage, under -the leadership of their great law-giver Moses, they had dwelt in -booths—they called them tabernacles—made of branches hastily woven -together. - -“And to this day,” Tullia had concluded, “in accordance with the -instructions in our sacred writings, every Jew during the Feast of -Tabernacles must leave his house and for eight days live in a hut made -of the branches of pine or myrtle or olive or palm.” The festival -occasion, she further pointed out, was one of rejoicing for Yahweh’s -deliverance of His children from slavery and His establishment of them -in their promised land. To honor Yahweh, the celebrants would offer -sacrifices each day and follow a prescribed order of worship and praise -and thanksgiving. These ceremonies, Tullia declared, were carried out in -great dignity and with reverence. Nothing she had ever seen in Rome, the -maid was certain, would excel them in pageantry. - -“Mistress,” she pleaded, “why don’t you move from the Palace of the -Herods for a day or two to the Procurator’s apartment in the Tower of -Antonia? From there you could look down on the ceremonial rites being -performed at the Temple, and no one would need know that you were -watching. And though it would have no interest to you as a service of -worship, it should prove entertaining in the same way that the theater -in Rome is diverting.” - -“It might be amusing at that,” Claudia had agreed. “And there’s nothing -else to do in Jerusalem anyway. But how is it, Tullia,” she asked, and -her expression clearly revealed her puzzlement, “that you know so much -about these festival customs? Even if your forebears were Jewish, you -were brought up in Rome, and surely you couldn’t have learned all this -at the synagogue on Janiculum Hill.” - -“But, Mistress, through the years I have read our sacred scriptures, and -I have heard much talk of our laws and customs. And you must know that -an Israelite, though he may never set foot in Israel, if he is a true -child of the faith, is loyal to our one God.” - -“I know little about Israelites or their Yahweh, and I care less about -either”—she smiled—“except for you, and I have never considered you a -Jew except perhaps by blood. But as for loyalty, by all the gods, little -one, I know you are loyal to me, just as your mother was to mine. All -this Yahweh and Temple business, though, confuses rather than interests -me. To me it seems the sheerest nonsense. How could any being worthy of -being called a god appreciate the sight of poor cattles’ throats being -slit; how could he enjoy the smell of warm blood and broiling fat? -Certainly it nauseates me.” - -“I have wondered that myself, Mistress,” Tullia answered. “But I believe -He is pleased because we are seeking to please Him, even though our form -of worship may not be too pleasing. Do you understand me, Mistress?” - -“Yes, but I believe still that your worship is nothing more than -superstition, just as our worship of the innumerable Roman and Greek -gods is superstition. But”—she reached over and gently pinched the slave -girl’s cheek—“I’ll do as you suggest; I’ll venture to watch the -ceremonial at the Temple, and you can tell me what they are doing.” - -So they had gone up to Antonia and from the balcony had watched the busy -movement of the priests and the assembled throngs, many of them pilgrims -returned from every province in the Empire, as these earnest Israelites -performed the traditional rites of the ancient festival of worship. On -her first morning, Claudia had arisen early and had stepped out onto the -balcony. The sun was just lifting above the Mount of Olives, but already -the Temple was astir, and pilgrims in their many colored robes were -swarming into the Court of the Gentiles, the nearer Court of the Women, -and the other more sacred precincts permitted to them. In their hands -they carried leafed branches. - -Claudia stared in rapt fascination at the spectacle below. As she leaned -out over the balcony, she scarcely heard Tullia’s footsteps approaching -behind her. - -“Good morning, Mistress.” - -“Good morning,” Claudia replied, turning to greet the girl. She pointed -downward. “You were right about this offering much in the way of -entertainment. It’s nearly as good as our Roman games.” - -Tullia laughed. “Who knows, perhaps you, too, Mistress, may become a -convert to our ways.” - -“Hardly.” Claudia shook her head with a wry smile. Then she turned and -looked thoughtfully down again at the bustling crowds in the Temple -courts. “There’s one thing in particular, you know, that I can’t -understand about the Jewish religion, little one.” The half-smile had -been replaced by a perplexed frown. “Unless I’m mistaken, the Jews -contend that their Yahweh is all-powerful, that he’s the only god there -is, and that he rules over all peoples; yet they call him the God of -Israel and seem to believe that he has no interest in anyone else. Down -there, for example”—she pointed toward the Temple—“there are signs -warning foreigners not to enter, under pain of death, certain of the -sacred places. How do the Jews explain that? It seems to me that they -make their Yahweh a sort of tribal god, one having less authority even -than our Jupiter. If Yahweh is the god of all the world, how can the -Jews claim him as exclusively theirs? And on the other hand, if he is -the god and father of all peoples, doesn’t that make all peoples -brothers?” She shrugged. “I see little sense to ... all this.” She broke -off with a quick sweep of her hand toward the procession of priests and -pilgrims moving down the slope toward the waters of Siloam. - -“They do say that such is the teaching of Jesus, that our Yahweh is the -father of all peoples, even the pagans who have never heard of Him, -that....” - -“Jesus?” - -“The Galilean. The carpenter, Mistress, of whom the Prophet John -declared himself to be the forerunner, you know. He’s been teaching down -there at the Temple; he came up from Galilee, though he wasn’t here at -the beginning of the feast, it was said. The priests are bitter toward -him, especially Annas and Caiaphas and the Temple leaders; they say he -is corrupting our religion.” - -“Hah! Annas and Caiaphas talk of corruption! I should think they -wouldn’t have the nerve. But have you seen this Galilean, little one?” - -“No, Mistress, but I should like to. They say he speaks with great charm -and clarity.” - -“By the gods, I would like to hear him myself. He’s the one, isn’t he, -who Cornelius contends healed his little servant boy? Maybe we could -prevail on him to do some other feats of magic.” - -“But his followers, so I hear, deny that he works magic. They say he -does such things of his own power and authority, as the Messiah of God.” - -“So Cornelius believes, according to Longinus; he thinks the Galilean is -a man-god and that he really healed the little boy, but Longinus wasn’t -that naïve. I wish Longinus were here to see the carpenter and hear his -discoursing; I’d like to know _his_ opinion of the man.” - -But Longinus was not in Jerusalem. Cornelius had failed in his promise -to bring the centurion to the Feast of Tabernacles. Hardly a week before -they were to leave Tiberias, Cornelius had received a message from -Longinus saying that the Prefect Sejanus had sent him instructions to -board ship at Tyre for Antioch, where he would have business with the -Legate Vitellius. What the nature of the business was, Cornelius told -Claudia, had not been revealed. Nor had Longinus indicated how long he -would be away. Had she known he would not be in the Judaean capital, -Claudia told her maid, she herself would have remained in the provincial -capital on the coast. That would have given her two weeks of freedom -from Pontius Pilate, at any rate, for Pilate, with a maniple of soldiers -and a retinue of servants, had come up with her to the festival and -would probably remain in Jerusalem until the final ceremonies were -completed and all the withered booths had been removed. - -In late afternoon the Procurator’s wife ate an early dinner, and as the -sun dropped behind the western walls, she stood again with Tullia at the -balcony’s parapet and looked down upon the animated movement within the -Temple’s courts. - -“See, Mistress!” Tullia pointed. “They all carry unlighted torches. It -will be beautiful, the illumination of the Temple. This is the great -event of the festival; it is called the ‘Joy of the Feast.’ When the sun -goes down, a watchman on the western wall of the Temple will give the -signal and the candelabra will be lighted. See how high they are, -perhaps thirty cubits. The light from them will illuminate the whole -Temple area. It will be like nothing you have seen, Mistress!” - -“Yes, Bona Dea, I agree it will be different. And in Jerusalem, Tullia, -you’re different. I do believe I’ve never before seen you so excited.” - -The service began with a great company of priests and Levites -alternating in the antiphonal chant of the Psalms and other sacred -Hebrew scriptures. Then, as the shadows lengthened and the quick murk of -descending night began to envelop the vast edifice and the thousands -massed within it, one of the priests, bearing a long lighted taper, -moved through the Court of the Priests and down the steps to the Court -of the Women. - -“Look, Mistress! See the priest carrying the lighted taper,” Tullia -said, her enthusiasm mounting. “With it he will light the great -candelabra.” - -The advancing priest paused. “Arise, shine!” his voice suddenly rang -out, “for thy Light is come! And the glory of the Lord is risen upon -thee!” Deliberately, with all eyes upon him, he lighted first the -central candle in the great stand, and then as quickly as he could with -the uplifted long taper he touched the flickering flame to each of the -three on either side of the central one; when he had finished his task -before the first great candelabrum, he crossed with measured tread to -the other and lighted it. As he touched the last candle and the flame -caught, a great welling up of excited, triumphant song was lifted to the -two on the balcony above, one the pagan daughter of Roman emperors and -the other, her slave maid, daughter of ancient and buffeted Israel. - -“What does the song mean, Tullia?” Claudia asked. “It seems to have a -tone of triumph, of victory. Yet how can the people of Israel boast of -their victories, if that is what they are doing?” - -“It _is_ a song of triumph, Mistress,” she replied. “It speaks, like the -Feast of Tabernacles itself does, of the days when our fathers were led -by the God of Israel out of bondage in Egypt. The song recalls, like the -flaming candelabra, the long and wearisome journey upward into the -promised land when the pillar of cloud led by day and the pillar of fire -by night. It is more of the lore of our people. But look! The procession -of light is beginning! See the torches!” - -First came the Levites. In procession they passed the flaming -candelabra, and as each man came opposite the blazing, darting fire, he -mounted the steps, lifted high his torch, and touched it to the flame. -Soon the torches of the Levites, followed by those of the pilgrims, had -transformed the entire mountain of the Temple into a blaze of fire. - -For a long moment, silent, Claudia stood at the balcony’s parapet and -studied the procession of torchbearers; their voices, raised in song, -filled the night. “It’s amazing,” she said finally. “I’ve always thought -that the Jewish religion had no joy in it; I thought it was the worship -of a stern, vengeful, morose god who was quick to punish any violator of -his strict and senseless laws, who demanded bloody sacrifices and -fasting and permitted no indulgence in pleasures. But these Jews seem to -be having a grand time, almost as though they were devotees of Isis or -Moloch.” - -“Yes, but without the orgies of Isis and Moloch,” Tullia explained. -“Many persons who are not of our faith do have that opinion of the God -of Israel. But we believe that although He is stern and demands that we -uphold His laws, He is also a loving God who wants His people to be -happy. Some will be dancing here as long as their torches burn, -Mistress.” - -“Well, you may stay out and watch them as long as you like, Tullia, but -I’m going to bed.” - -“One more thing, Mistress,” the slave girl asked. “If I may, I should -like at sunrise tomorrow to slip down into the Temple courts for the -early service.” - -“Of course, little one,” Claudia smiled. “But be careful. And perhaps it -would be best if you made no mention of being in the Procurator’s -household.” - - - - - 36 - - -Faintly at first and from afar off the silvery notes of a trumpet -floated into her bedchamber. As she seemed to rise slowly upward out of -a deep cavern of slumber, she sensed a stirring beside her. - -“The morning watch at Castra Praetoria,” he said, as in the dim light of -breaking day he raised himself on an elbow to look into her face, “and I -have early duty.” - -“But, Longinus,” she began a murmured protest, “must you forever be -leaving...?” - -“Today is very important,” he went on, unheeding. “I must meet the -Prefect there to begin our journey down to Capri for an audience with -the Emperor. Sejanus is going to recommend that Tiberius recall Pontius -Pilate and banish him to Gaul and then name me as Procurator. But you -are not to go with him into banishment. Instead, you will marry me -and....” - -“By all the gods! Longinus! Oh, by the Bountiful Mother! So long have we -waited....” - -She sat up from her pillow. The light was seeping through the narrow -window beyond the foot of the bed; the chamber was bursting now with the -sound of trumpets. Sleepily, though she was fast coming awake, she felt -for the centurion and sought to hold on to the dream, but she knew he -was not there. And in a moment’s hush between the trumpetings she heard -from the room adjoining hers, through the doorway connecting the -chambers, the sonorous, heavy snoring of Pontius Pilate. - -“Tullia!” she called, keeping her voice down. But the door to the maid’s -smaller chamber on the side opposite the Procurator’s was open; she had -hardly expected Tullia to be there. The trumpets below were calling -Israel to the sunrise worship, and somewhere in the milling throng of -Jerusalem dwellers and pilgrims was her devoted maid. - -She pushed down the covering, swung her feet around to the floor, and -stood up. Drawing her robe about her, she stepped into her sandals and -tiptoed out onto the balcony. Down below in the Temple courts a few -torches sputtered sporadically in the strengthening light, and several -still burning in the two giant candelabra offered more twisting -blue-black smoke than illumination. - -But there was a glory in the east; behind the rounded crest of the Mount -of Olives a giant hand spread fingers of orange and gold and salmon and -pink, and as the aureole fanned out higher and wider and its vivid -colors swam together in one blazing brightness, the sun ventured to peek -above the hilltop. In that instant the golden dome of the Temple flamed, -and the topmost stones around the city’s western wall caught fire. - -A blast of trumpets, silvery, melodious, triumphant, saluted the sun’s -rising. And then another, and another. Looking down into the Court of -the Priests, from which the sound had come, Claudia saw two lavishly -caparisoned priests, carrying trumpets and walking abreast, marching -toward the lower Court of the Women. They were going down the steps -between the two courts when suddenly they paused and, lifting their -instruments to their lips, once again blew three blasts. Then they moved -austerely down the remaining steps and into the court, where they paused -and blew three blasts again. - -“Can they be sun worshipers, by all the gods?” Claudia murmured as she -watched the priests offering what appeared to be homage to the newly -risen monarch of the heavens. - -The two priests, pacing steadily eastward through the great Court of the -Women, stopped near its center and once more blew sharp blasts and then, -lowering their trumpets, marched straight toward the Beautiful Gate, the -eastern entrance to the court. But before the huge portal they stopped -and faced about, so that now their backs were toward the sun. - -“Our fathers, who worshiped likewise in this place, turned their backs -upon the sanctuary of the Lord and their faces to the sun,” they said in -chorus, and the words came up distinctly to Claudia, who was able to -understand their meaning though she could not comprehend their -significance. “But our eyes are turned toward the Lord!” - -“Then at least they do not worship the sun,” she said to herself, -“although I look upon the sun as being more godlike than their puny -spirit one god.” - -She stood another moment watching the pageantry below; then her eyes -swept beyond the Temple walls to survey the tabernacled city and the -area outside its protective walls. Today, she remembered, would see the -ending of the Jewish autumn festival, the Israelites’ traditional Feast -of Tabernacles. And it was well that it should. Already the little green -bough shelters were beginning to wilt in the October sun. The pageantry, -too, must be losing its luster, even to the people of Israel. - -_... And Longinus could not come to Jerusalem...._ - -Turning from the parapet, she crossed the balcony and entered her -chamber. Taking off her robe, she slipped back into the inviting warmth -of the bed. - - - - - 37 - - -The opening of the bedchamber door awakened Claudia; she sat up in bed. - -“I’m sorry, Mistress,” Tullia said apologetically as she closed the door -behind her. “I thought perhaps you had gone out.” - -“It’s all right. I’ve slept enough. Those early trumpets awoke me, and I -went out on the balcony and watched the services beginning. That was -probably just a short while after you left. Then I came back to bed. But -why have you returned so soon? Surely that water-pouring ceremony isn’t -finished yet.” She paused and studied the slave maid. “By the gods, -Tullia, something’s happened. I can see stars in your eyes. And you’re -all out of breath; you’ve been running. Quickly, tell me, what is it?” - -“Oh, Mistress,” Tullia burst out happily, “he’s down there! He’s down -there right now, in the Court of the Gentiles. I ran back to tell you.” - -“Longinus!” Claudia scrambled to her feet. - -The stars dimmed. “I’m sorry, Mistress, I hadn’t meant to disappoint -you. But yesterday you said you’d like to see him....” - -“The Galilean?” - -“Yes, Mistress, and he’s down there right now. Do you remember that -woman who came with the Tetrarch Herod to Rome, the beautiful one called -Mary of Magdala?” - -“Yes, of course. Why do you ask?” - -“I was in the Court of the Women, Mistress, during the early service, -when I came upon her. I recognized her, and I knew she was a follower of -the Galilean. So I asked her to tell me if he had come to the Feast. She -said he had and that even then he was in the Court of the Gentiles over -near the Shushan Gate; today, she said, he would be teaching there, no -doubt as soon as the service of the water pouring is finished. Soon the -procession will return from the Pool of Siloam; it may be that it’s -already back. If you’d like to eat, Mistress, and then go down to the -Court of the Gentiles....” - -“But I need not eat just this minute, Tullia. We’ll go now. Here,” she -said, holding out her robe, “help me get dressed. I really would like to -see that man and hear him speak”—she smiled—“and witness any feats of -magic he might be prevailed upon to perform.” But quickly her expression -sobered. “Tullia, you’ll have to fix me so that no one would even dream -he was looking at the Procurator’s wife.” - -“Yes, Mistress, but a veil and simple stola will serve that purpose.” - -Claudia peeked into the adjoining bedchamber. It was empty. “Pilate no -doubt has gone to the Praetorium,” she said. “He needn’t know I’m going -down into the Temple precincts.” - -With Tullia’s aid, she dressed, and they descended to the ground level -and went out through the great vaulted doorway on the south side of the -Tower. A moment later the two women, heavily veiled, entered the Temple -enclosure through the North Gate of Asuppim and headed toward the Soreg, -a lacy latticework of carefully carved and interwoven stones four and a -half feet high surrounding the Temple itself. From there they turned -left and strode eastward through the vast Court of the Gentiles with its -jam of worshipers and the idly curious. - -“Mary said that he usually sits over there”—Tullia pointed toward the -cloisters along the eastern wall of the Temple—“near the Shushan Gate.” -The Shushan Gate was at the northern end of the wall, directly east of -the Beautiful Gate. Steps led up from the Court of the Gentiles to the -Chel, a corridor running between the Soreg and the walls of the Temple -proper, in which sat the resplendent, great Shushan Gate. The Court of -the Women, in turn, was several feet higher than the Chel. At the -western end of the Court of the Women, centering the wall, was another -large opening, the Gate of Nicanor, and directly west of this gate and -on a still more uplifted platform, stood the Great Altar. A person at -the Gate of Shushan could look above marble steps ascending from one -court level to another to the priests performing their orders before -this tremendous and imposing pyramidal altar of burnt offerings. - -As Claudia and Tullia neared the eastern end of the Soreg they could see -the Shushan Gate, but no group was knotted about it. They could look -across the cloister and out through the gate to the rise of the Mount of -Olives beyond the Brook Kidron far below. “He’s not there,” Tullia said, -her tone revealing disappointment. “Perhaps he went with the procession -to the Pool of Siloam and has not yet returned. Surely he will be here -soon.” - -But as they turned the corner to their left, the two women saw a motley -throng pushed together in a half circle about the steps that led up to -the Chel. “Maybe Jesus is there,” Tullia exclaimed, keeping her voice -low, for now they were nearing the outer edge of this crowd. She turned -to confront a lean and bearded tall Israelite. “We have just come here,” -she said. “We wonder why all these people are gathered about. Is some -rabbi expounding the law?” - -“Yes, the Galilean whom some hold to be the Messiah of God. The priests -and the scholars have been trying to confuse him, but he has thrown -their words back into their teeth.” - -They moved forward into the outer fringe of the group and eased their -steps toward the man sitting before the Beautiful Gate until soon they -had an unobstructed view of him. From where they stood they could also -see through the wide portals of the Beautiful Gate across the Court of -the Women and the Gate of Nicanor to the Great Altar, upon which the -High Priest Caiaphas, with two other Temple dignitaries assisting him, -had tipped the golden ewer of water from the Pool of Siloam as a -libation to Yahweh. Many of those now listening to the discourse of the -Galilean had been present for the ceremonies of the water pouring, -including a small knot of lavishly robed Israelites whom Tullia -immediately recognized as the men who had been attempting to confound -Jesus with their hate-inspired but politely phrased questions. - -Evidently one of these men, a stout Pharisee from the looks of his garb, -had just so challenged the Galilean. But if Jesus was perturbed, he did -not indicate it. He was speaking calmly, and his resonant but gentle -Galilean Aramaic came clearly to them above the din of the cattle in the -stalls along the northern cloisters. “He doesn’t speak with the fire and -thunder of that Wilderness prophet,” Claudia observed in whispered -comment. “He seems not to be the fanatical type, and I’m surprised. He’s -handsome, too, and I’m even more surprised at that. I thought he would -be another lean and burnt, arm-waving, shouting fanatic, one with a long -messy beard, flaming eyes, and soiled clothing—a generally anemic look. -But this one’s a strong fellow, though his manner’s gentle enough. Even -so, there’s something odd about this. I wonder....” - -But suddenly she stopped speaking, for the rabbi had raised his bronzed -hand, long forefinger extended, to point to one of the Pharisees who had -been questioning him. “You say that I am but testifying to myself and -that therefore my testimony is invalid. But I say unto you, my brother, -that my testimony is valid. Is it not written in the law that the -testimony of two witnesses establishes the fact? Then my testimony is -true, for I bear witness and likewise my Father that sent me bears -witness. That makes two witnesses; that establishes the truthfulness of -the testimony I have borne.” - -“Who is this father of whom he speaks?” asked a man standing near the -two women. “Is he not the son of a carpenter of Nazareth long dead? How -then does he say that his father’s testimony corroborates his own?” - -“He’s not speaking of his natural father,” another man standing near-by -replied. “He means the God of Israel as his father.” - -“But isn’t that blasphemy? How can a man call himself the son of -Israel’s God?” - -“But if indeed he is the Messiah....” The second man paused, his hand on -the questioner’s arm, for Jesus had arisen and, turning, was pointing -toward the high altar before the Holy of Holies. “Behold, I am the water -of life! If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink.” The -Galilean spoke in calm tones but with warmth of feeling, and in the -pause that followed none of his hearers spoke. Again he pointed, this -time toward the giant candelabra below the Gate of Nicanor in the Court -of the Women; last night the great court and all the environs of the -Temple had been ablaze with light from the candelabra and the hundreds -of flaming torches. “I am the light of the world!” he declared. “He that -follows me shall not walk in darkness but shall have the light of life!” - -Claudia nudged her maid. “What does he mean, Tullia?” she whispered. - -“I’m not sure I know, Mistress,” the girl answered. “But I take it he’s -using a kind of symbolism that the Jews can understand. He must be -referring to the ceremony of water pouring and to last night’s -illumination of the Temple.” - -But the carping Pharisees and the other Temple leaders pretended -likewise not to understand. - -“The water of life, the light of the world. And your father being a -witness to the truthfulness of the testimony you present. These things -are incomprehensible to us,” one of them declared. “Rabbi, wasn’t your -father a carpenter in Galilee? And where is he to support your witness? -Isn’t he dead? How then can you say that you and your father make two -witnesses? We have not seen your father, nor have we heard him speak.” - -“You speak the truth when you say that you have not seen my Father.” His -voice was calm, even gentle, but his eyes were filled with fire. -“Neither have you seen me. For if you had seen me, you would likewise -have seen my Father, for the Father is in me and I am in the Father. My -Father and I are one.” - -“Is he speaking of the God of Israel as his father?” A portly Pharisee -near the two women had turned to speak with one of his colleagues. “Is -that the meaning of his strange utterance?” - -“I think so.” - -“Blasphemy!” declared the questioner. “He makes himself one with God!” - -But Jesus had heard. - -“No,” he declared, looking the fat one full in the face. “Only truth. -And if you knew me and were willing to live by my teaching, you would -know the truth, and the truth would make you free. You would not walk in -darkness, but in the light of the world, in the fullness of life.” - -“But, Rabbi, we are free. We are children of Abraham. We are not slaves. -How can you say that we would be made free? We have never been slaves to -any man.” - -“Any man who sins is a slave, and no slave is a son of the house; yet if -the son of the house sets him free, he is no longer a slave.” - -“But we _are_ sons of Abraham. We are no bastards. We are the children -of the God of Israel.” - -Jesus leveled his forefinger at the protesting Pharisee. “No, you are -not the sons of the Father; you are rather sons of the Evil One, for he -is the enemy of truth and you likewise are its enemies.” His words were -uttered in calmness, but they were emphatic, and his eyes flashed. “You -will neither hear the truth nor comprehend it.” - -“But, Rabbi, you must be mad.” - -Jesus smiled, and Claudia, who had been watching him in complete -fascination since her first sight of him, thought she detected a hint of -restrained amusement in his dark eyes. “No,” he said, “I am not mad; I -speak the truth, and whoever lives by the truth, my brother, will not -even see death.” - -“But haven’t all the fathers in ages before—Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, -Isaiah, all the righteous ones of old—haven’t they all met death? Then -how can you say that others will not die?” - -“I dare say, he is not speaking of physical death,” Tullia whispered. -“It’s obvious he’s referring to the afterlife of the spirit. But these -sniveling Pharisees don’t even want to understand him.” - -Yet Jesus did not answer the Temple leader, for in the rear of the press -about him a commotion had arisen and the Galilean had turned from the -questioning Pharisee to look out over the heads of the people now -craning their necks to see the cause of the tumult. The questioner and -his little knot had turned, too; the Galilean’s inquisitor, Tullia -surmised, was quite willing for the exchange to be ended, for he had not -been faring well in matching wits and words with the tall one from -Nazareth. - -Tullia and Claudia, too, had twisted about to look eastward toward the -sounds that so precipitately had disturbed the strangely inspiriting -discourse and the carping questions of the Nazarene’s challengers. In -that same instant they saw, out in front of the gate of Shushan, several -coarse men half-dragging, half-carrying a bedraggled Jewish woman toward -the throng ringed about Jesus. As the crowd opened a lane inward to the -Galilean, the men rushed the poor creature toward him and savagely -thrust her to the ground at his feet. A man who had been walking in the -rear of the pitiful procession, whom Tullia took to be a minor Temple -priest, stepped in front of Jesus. - -“Rabbi, this woman has been taken in the act of adultery, in the very -act, Rabbi, as the witnesses will testify. Now the law of Moses says -that such a woman must be stoned.” He paused, and his eyes surveyed the -half circle of intent, set faces. Along the rim heads nodded in -agreement. - -“Is that really the law of the Israelites?” Claudia whispered. “Stone to -death a woman for such offense, by all the gods!” - -“Yes, it’s the old Mosaic law, Mistress.” - -“That is barbarous, Tullia. By all the gods, if I were a Jew, then -they....” But she paused, for the man had turned back to question the -Galilean. “You, however, Rabbi, have been teaching a new law. What would -you say to her punishment? Must she be stoned in accordance with our -ancient laws or not?” - -Jesus was eying the poor woman, who had scrambled to her feet and was -trying to smooth out her disordered robe. Frightened and humiliated, she -kept her eyes on the ground; then, as the man finished his question and -the suddenly quiet throng listened for the reply, she raised them and -looked, with a mixture of defiance, contempt, and fright, at the tall -bronzed man before her. - -“But what can he say?” Claudia whispered. “Aren’t they trying to trap -him into advocating violation of their laws?” - -“Yes, Mistress. And they know, too, that they have no authority to stone -anyone to death unless the person is first condemned by the Procurator. -Either way, it’s a trap they’re trying to set.” - -“Then I shall speak to Pilate....” She stopped; Tullia had laid a gently -restraining hand on her arm, for Jesus had bent down suddenly and -without offering to answer the Jew who had questioned him had begun to -trace with extended forefinger certain markings in the dust of the -marble pavement. - -About him stood the silent crowd. Some seemed fearful of the horror they -might soon be witnessing; others, their cold smiles attesting to their -sadistic natures, were waiting expectantly to witness the woman’s death -agonies; only a few solemn faces revealed concern and deep pity. But the -little knot of Pharisees stood with arms folded across their rounded -paunches; their smug smiles betrayed their confidence that at last, on -the final day of the great festival, they had run to earth this annoying -and dangerous young Galilean who had been so cleverly eluding them. - -Then, raising his head, Jesus faced the man who had questioned him. “You -have testified aright as to the law of our father Moses,” he said, his -voice calm, deliberate. “The law of Moses commands that the woman ... -and the man ... taken in adultery be stoned. But you ask me my -interpretation of this law?” - -“We do, Rabbi. What will you do with this woman?” The man looked about -the semicircle of cold, hard faces, and one by one the Pharisees nodded -approval of his questioning. “Rabbi, what is your law in this case?” - -“I answer you, my brother, in this wise, and this is my interpretation -of the law. Let him that is without sin among you cast the first stone.” -His quiet, dark eyes rested a moment on the startled countenance of the -man who had just propounded the question, and then quickly they moved -along the line of the challenging Temple leaders. - -Now once more he bent forward and with stiffened forefinger traced -symbols in the dust. - -For a long moment his eyes remained fixed upon the pavement. When he -looked up, the little group of sneering Pharisees had departed. The -others in the ring about him had fallen back from the steps on which he -sat and stood regarding him with frank amazement; some of them revealed -their delight at his having confounded his enemies, and on the faces of -others could be seen a heightened responsiveness to the young man’s -teachings and for the Galilean himself a strengthened affection. - -“Woman, where are your accusers?” he asked the amazed poor creature, -from whom in the swift moment of his answer had fled all trace of -defiant insolence. “Does no man remain to condemn you?” - -She lifted her tear-streaked face to him. “No man, Lord.” - -“Neither do I condemn you. Go now, and sin no more.” - -Claudia could not understand the woman’s murmured reply, but on her face -clearly discernible was a look of radiance as she bowed to the Galilean -and, turning, slipped away out of the crowd. At the same time the -Procurator’s wife noticed a large, bushy-bearded fellow, wide of -shoulders and heavily muscled, pushing through the throng from the -direction of the Gate Shalleketh. He walked up to Jesus, who had stood -up as the woman was leaving. “Master, you have been here a long while; -you must be weary. Let us go over to Bethany to rest a spell.” - -“That’s the fisherman I saw one day at Tiberias,” whispered Tullia. “He -is of the Galilean’s company; his name, I think, is Simon.” - -The crowd now began to disperse, for Jesus and the big fisherman were -moving off toward the Gate Shushan. They came past the two women, so -close to them that Claudia could have reached out and touched the tall -Galilean. Their eyes met; he smiled and passed on. She stood rooted, -watching the two until they had passed out of sight down the slope -toward the Brook Kidron. “He seemed to recognize me,” she said to -herself, as suddenly a fanciful thought crossed her mind. “But of course -he didn’t; he’s never in all his life seen me before.” - -With the two men’s disappearance, however, the spell was broken. Claudia -caught her maid’s arm. “We’d better be going now,” she said. But she was -still lost in her own thoughts; they had rounded the corner of the Soreg -and were nearing the North Gate of Asuppim before she spoke again. “By -the gods, what a man! What a marvelous, strange Jew. And he didn’t do -any feats of magic either. Little one, I’m so glad you brought me down -here.” - -“Mistress, now that you’ve seen him and heard his discourse, even though -for but a few minutes, what is your opinion of him? Do you think that -perhaps he really is the Messiah of Israel?” - -“I know nothing of the Messiah of Israel ... and care nothing. And this -idea of a man’s being a god, even though we Romans are supposed to -believe that the gods come to earth in the form of men, is just as -incomprehensible to me as it is to Longinus. Maybe that’s because I -don’t believe in the gods in the first place.” They were going through -the great North Gate of Asuppim when Claudia stopped and caught Tullia’s -arm. “Nevertheless, little one—and you asked me my opinion of him—there -is something tremendously different about that man. I’m sure I have -never encountered another like him. He’s a quick thinker and able to -out-wit his enemies, and he’s evidently a good and just man. But there’s -something else”—she paused, her forehead creased in a frown—“something -to me, at any rate, mystifying. The way he looked at me, Tullia....” Her -solemn expression relaxed into a quick, warming smile. “Perhaps he _is_ -your Messiah of the Jews, little one, whatever that means!” - - - - - 38 - - -On her return to Caesarea from the Feast of Tabernacles, Claudia learned -from Sergius Paulus that Longinus had sailed for Rome. The message from -the centurion to the commander of the Roman constabulary had been -brought by a ship’s master who had sailed southward from the Antioch -port of Seleucia shortly after Longinus had gone aboard a ship there for -his voyage to the capital. - -The message had been brief, the commander said; its purpose was to let -him know that Longinus had been sent to Rome by the Legate Vitellius on -what the legate must have considered an urgent mission, probably to the -Prefect Sejanus. - -“Longinus must have sailed from Seleucia on one of the last boats out,” -Sergius observed. “From now until spring there’ll be few crossings; any -ship attempting to make it will be braving the heavy winds.” He smiled -wryly. “It must have been important business the legate was sending him -on.” - -Claudia suspected that Longinus was going to the capital to relay the -legate’s report on the situation in Palestine. Particularly important, -she knew, would be the question of whether or not King Aretas was -planning to attack Herod and thereby involve the whole Palestinian -region in war. But she had no direct message from the centurion. - -Longinus was acting wisely, she realized, in sending her no written -communication. He could hardly evolve any innocent appearing reason for -writing her, and it would be impossible to send her such a message -without Pilate’s learning about it, and possibly even the Prefect. And -any message sent would of necessity be innocuous. But as the weeks -pushed deeper and deeper into winter and no word of him came to her at -all, she began to wonder if he would return to Palestine or if, the gods -forbid, Sejanus might have sent him once more to Germania or Gaul or to -some other post far remote from the now increasingly dreary Palestine. - -Despite the fact that it was Herodias who had urged her to go up to -Jerusalem for the Feast of Tabernacles, the two women had hardly seen -one another during those days in Israel’s capital. Claudia recalled that -even then the Tetrarchess had seemed somewhat reserved. And once when -mention was made of the journey of Longinus to Antioch in response to -the summons of the Legate Vitellius, Herodias had appeared to grow even -more coldly formal. Perhaps the Tetrarchess suspected, Claudia thought -at the time, that Longinus was reporting on Herod’s visit to Machaerus -and the appearance there of the ambassadors from King Aretas, and even -of her own bizarre conduct at the Tetrarch’s birthday banquet. Nor had -Herodias, as they were preparing to leave Jerusalem, invited her to come -to Tiberias. - -And at the Feast neither she nor Pilate had seen Antipas. She wondered -if perhaps he, too, might have suspected that Longinus was even then in -Antioch reporting what he had seen and heard at Machaerus. But her -failure to be honored by the Tetrarch in Jerusalem troubled her not at -all. She had less respect for him, she confessed to herself, than she -had for the Procurator. And she hoped that Longinus was finding -opportunity for dropping some poisoned, if discreet, words into the ears -of Sejanus concerning Pontius Pilate and his continuing difficulties -with the Jews. - -Nor was the Procurator’s administration of affairs in Judaea, as the -winter advanced, serving to establish him in better favor with the -people he was governing. Stubborn and unimaginative, he steadfastly -refused either to learn anything or forget anything. Scorning his -subordinate officials and refusing to give consideration to their -counseling, fearful of his superiors, including the Legate Vitellius and -particularly the Prefect Sejanus, Pilate provided no stable rule of -Judaea; his administration vacillated from fierce oppression and -arbitrary action to cowardly yielding to priestly demands. His tax -gatherers, working through the despised publicans, those native -hirelings of Rome whom the Israelites looked upon with loathing as -traitors to Israel and Israel’s Yahweh, demanded and received exorbitant -tribute in money and produce of the land; this did not add to the -Procurator’s popularity among the Jews. Both the people and the Temple -leaders were growing increasingly enraged. - -The natural breach between the Procurator and the Tetrarch, too, was -widening as the weeks went by; an incident at the Temple during one of -the great festival occasions in which Pilate’s soldiers had slain a -group of roistering Galileans had infuriated Herod Antipas. And Pilate’s -effort to use Temple funds in the building of an aqueduct to bring water -into Jerusalem had evoked the bitter animosity of the Temple leadership. -On all sides, then, the Procurator, beginning with his flaunting of the -Roman ensigns in Jerusalem shortly after his arrival in Judaea, had been -strengthening rather than weakening the natural hostility the Israelites -had for the representatives of conquering Rome. - -All this Claudia had observed; she wondered how long this mounting -burden of tension and hate could continue to build upon the broad -shoulders of Pontius Pilate before inevitably it should topple him from -the Procuratorship. The answer, she was confident, lay not in Judaea, -but in Rome. Pilate would last only so long as he did not too greatly -displease Sejanus. And from the moment the tribute from Judaea to Rome -... and Sejanus ... began to shrink, she reasoned, her spouse’s days as -Procurator would be numbered. - -_ ... Perhaps Sejanus may have begun to suspect already that Pilate’s -fingers have become sticky, that too large a proportion of the revenues -are failing to reach Rome; perhaps he has revealed, or hinted, his -suspicions to Longinus, and Longinus will tell me everything when he -returns._ - -_... If he does return. But surely he will be back in Caesarea when -winter relents and calming weather permits the ships to resume their -sailing. Surely he will arrive in time to go with us to Jerusalem for -the Feast of the Passover...._ - -Thinking one day of the coming Feast, she recalled her earlier visit -with Tullia to the Temple. “Do you remember that last day of the Feast -of Tabernacles?” she asked, turning to her slave maid. The girl nodded -and smiled. “That Galilean,” Claudia continued, “your Messiah of the -Jews, I wonder what has become of him. Do you suppose he’ll return to -the Jewish capital for the Passover festival?” - -“I would say so, Mistress,” Tullia answered. “Every devout Jew tries to -go up for the Passover Feast. And certainly the Galilean is a devout -Jew. Even though the Temple priests are bent on destroying him, I’m sure -he will wish to go there to worship.” - -“If he does, maybe we’ll have an opportunity to hear him again ... and -perhaps this time he will perform some feat of magic.” - -“But, Mistress, those who hold him to be the Messiah insist that he does -not work magic; they declare he does his miracles of healing by the will -of God.” - -She smiled. “Well, however he does them—and even from you, little one, -I’ve heard reports that he does—is no concern of mine. But should he -come up to the Temple and perform some such feat, either by his own -cleverness or with the aid of your Yahweh, I would like to be there when -he did it.” - -“But, Mistress, you saw him that day they dragged the woman before -him....” - -“Yes, but his saving her from that mob was not magic, little one. That -was only the working of a quick intelligence and a good heart. But they -say he can make lame persons walk again and blind persons see. And -Cornelius, you remember, declared he healed his little servant boy, -though Longinus thinks it was only a coincidence that the boy’s fever -broke just at the same time the Galilean supposedly was curing him. -Cornelius even believes that the carpenter once actually restored to -life the son of a widow; he told me they were bearing the young man to -the tomb when the Galilean happened along and brought him back to life. -Of course, the boy may have been in a trance; certainly no sensible -person can believe that he was really dead and then came back to life -when the Galilean said some mysterious words and made some queer motions -over him.” She paused and looked Tullia in the eyes. “Or do you, little -one?” - -“But if he is actually the son of our God....” - -“Oh, you gullible Jews, even you, Tullia.” Her countenance revealed an -amused tolerance. “And Cornelius. A soldier of Rome. But how, by all the -gods, Tullia, can any present-day person of education and culture -embrace such blatant superstition to believe that a man could come to -earth as a god, even if he could believe that there are gods in the -first place?” - -But Tullia skillfully evaded answering the question. “If you saw him -restore to life a man who you knew was dead, what would you say about -him then, Mistress?” - -“When I see him do that, little one, I’ll tell you then.” - -Nevertheless, Claudia had not dismissed the Galilean from her thoughts, -for that night she dreamed about him. It was a confused and illogical -arrangement of stories she had heard about Jesus, interwoven with the -experience she and Tullia had had that day at the Temple during the -final exercises of the Feast of Tabernacles. In the dream she and -Longinus had strolled with Cornelius down from the Tower of Antonia into -the Court of the Gentiles. Rounding a corner of the Soreg, the three had -come upon a throng ringed about the Galilean. They had pushed forward to -the inner circle, and there, they had discovered on the stones of the -court at the carpenter’s feet a crushed and bloody woman. - -“Rabbi,” a burly fellow beside the woman was saying, “this woman is -dead. We caught her in the act of adultery, and in accordance with the -law of our father Moses we stoned her to death. I ask you, Rabbi, did -not we do well in thus upholding the ancient law of Israel?” - -“It is the law that the woman and the man taken in adultery be stoned to -death,” the Galilean replied, and then his eyes flamed and his voice -took on a new intensity, “but you who stoned her, were you without -sins?” Then he lowered his eyes to the stones beside the dead woman and -began with his forefinger to trace symbols in the dust. After a moment -he stood up and, bending down, caught the stiffened body underneath his -arms and raised it, unbending, until it stood upright. - -“Remember,” said Cornelius, “she is dead, completely dead; see her -mangled face, her crushed skull. Watch the Galilean.” - -Jesus was steadying the rigid corpse with one hand. Now he raised his -other hand to a position above her head and began to intone words that -to Claudia were strange and utterly incomprehensible. - -“Watch now,” said Cornelius. “Keep your eyes on him. And, remember, the -woman is dead; there is no life in her, none.” - -Incredulous, their eyes straining, they saw the stiffened limbs -beginning to relax and the head bend forward slightly; the crushed bones -of the shattered face rounded outward, the torn and bruised flesh -smoothed, the clotted blood melted away, and the desecrated ghastly -countenance was restored to a calm beauty; the woman, looking now into -the serene face of the Galilean, smiled. - -“By all the great gods ...” But Longinus hushed precipitately, for Jesus -was speaking to the woman, now fully alert. “No man condemns you, my -sister, and neither do I,” Jesus said, as he pointed toward her -executioners, now slinking away toward the Gate of Shushan. “Go, and sin -no more.” - -Longinus turned now to the Procurator’s wife, and on his face she saw an -expression of utter amazement. “But, Claudia, the woman was dead! Her -head was crushed; her face was a bloody pulp. And now, look! She is -walking away, around the corner of the Soreg! The Galilean, Claudia, he -must be a god! By all the gods, Claudia, this man must be a god! He must -be....” - -But Longinus’ voice was fading, and he was receding, slipping away, and -so were Cornelius and the Galilean and the woman.... - -Claudia opened her eyes; her chamber was flooded with light. She closed -them again, trying to recapture the scene in the great court of the -Temple. But the dream had fled. “Bona Dea,” she said aloud. “It was so -real. That woman. And the Galilean. And Cornelius and Longinus. So -vivid. Maybe”—the notion suddenly occurred to her—“I’m dreaming now, -maybe I’m dreaming that I was dreaming.” - -She sat up, swung her feet around to the floor, stretched and yawned. -Then quickly she arose and crossing to the window, looked down at the -ships in the harbor. Bright sunlight flashed from the hulls and the -billowing sails. On the docks slaves struggled with casks and crates as -they loaded and unloaded vessels. The world she was seeing was real; she -stood looking through her window upon things tangible and -comprehensible. The dream, with all its implications of the inscrutable, -was gone, vanished. - -But she was not to forget it entirely. One day Tullia revealed that -while at the market place she had encountered some travelers from -Galilee who had gone up to Jerusalem and were returning by way of -Caesarea. On their journey, they told her, they had come upon the -Galilean and several of his band in a hamlet in the mountains of -Ephraim. Jesus had returned to Galilee from the Feast of Tabernacles, -but after several weeks he had gone back for the Feast of Dedication. -From Jerusalem he had retired into Peraea. - -As Tullia related the story she had been told, her eyes began to shine. -“While he was on the other side of the Jordan,” she went on, “he -received a message from Bethany....” - -“Bethany?” - -“It’s a small village a few miles—a mile or so—just west of Jerusalem, -Mistress.” - -“What was the message?” - -“Jesus had three friends who lived there, a man and his two sisters. -While he was over beyond the Jordan he had word that the man was near -death. So he and his band returned to Bethany. When they got there, they -found that his friend had been dead four days.” - -“And the Galilean brought him back to life?” - -“Yes, Mistress! That’s what the travelers said.” - -Claudia laughed. “Cornelius should have been there. No doubt, though, -he’s already heard about it. And, of course, he believes the story.” - -“But you don’t, Mistress?” - -Claudia wasn’t sure that the servant woman was teasing. “No, Tullia, I -don’t,” she replied. “Very probably this story has been repeated many -times and has been added to by each teller. No doubt it was like the one -Cornelius was telling about the widow’s son, or even the incident in -which his own little slave boy was supposed to have been cured by the -Galilean. Obviously, the man at Bethany was not dead; no doubt they -thought he was....” - -“But, Mistress, they said he had been in the tomb four days.” - -“They said it, yes. Perhaps he hadn’t been entombed that long; but if he -had, what of it? He wouldn’t have suffocated; tombs aren’t sealed that -securely. In all probability the man was in a trance when they put him -away; no doubt the carpenter roused him from the trance into which he -had fallen.” - -“Mistress, you have little faith in the Galilean.” Tullia’s dark eyes -were serious now. “You cannot see how he could be the Messiah of the -Jews and armed with unearthly power, can you?” - -“I don’t believe that any man can restore life to another man, if that’s -what you mean, little one. I cannot believe that any human possesses -supernatural power; in fact, as I have told you many times, I doubt the -existence of supernatural beings, including your Yahweh.” She laughed -again. “But you and Cornelius outnumber me. I should have Longinus here -to support me.” - -But when a few weeks later the Centurion Longinus did sail into the -harbor at Caesarea, Claudia had no longer a thought for the Galilean -mystic and his reported wonder-working. - -The centurion journeyed on a coastal vessel bound from Seleucia to -Alexandria. He had sailed from Rome as soon as weather conditions -permitted; from Seleucia he had moved on to Antioch to report to the -Legate Vitellius. Returning a few days later, he had boarded another -vessel destined for the Palestinian ports and Alexandria. - -On coming ashore at Caesarea the centurion went first to the garrison -headquarters and reported to Sergius Paulus. That duty completed, he -visited the Procurator’s Palace, ostensibly to pay his respects to -Pontius Pilate. The Procurator, polite but coldly formal, talked with -him for only a moment before excusing himself and leaving the palace. -Longinus, remarking about it to Claudia, wondered if the Procurator was -finally becoming jealous. - -“No, he isn’t jealous, by all the gods, and that makes me furious with -him!” Claudia had answered. “But he may suspect that you’ve been spying -on him and that Vitellius called you to Antioch to report on his -administration of affairs in Judaea and then sent you to Rome to relay -information and suggestions to Sejanus.” - -“He would be entirely right, too, in thinking so. And you can add old -Herod Antipas to my watched list.” He thought, with sudden amusement, of -the third name on the list given him by Sejanus when first the Prefect -sent him out to Palestine, but he did not comment. “And what I told the -Prefect about both of them, for the Legate Vitellius and from my own -observations, didn’t make them any more secure in their positions, by -the gods!” - -Quickly he related his experiences in Rome; he had met several times -with Sejanus, once to discuss ways of increasing the output of the -glassworks in Phoenicia. On another occasion the two had gone out to -Capri for an audience with Tiberius. “The Emperor asked about his -beloved stepdaughter,” he said, “but I professed to have little -information about you. Sejanus also quizzed me—I’m sure he still -suspects us—but he, too, learned nothing.” - -“But what is going to happen, Longinus—about us, I mean—and when? Is -there any likelihood still of Pilate’s being recalled ... soon?” - -“Yes, I’d say there was. I know Sejanus is losing patience with Pilate; -he seems to hear everything that happens out here, and Pilate’s -inability to rule Judaea without continually provoking turmoil and -protesting by the Jews angers the Prefect. The only thing that’s kept -Pilate as Procurator this long, I suspect, is the fact that Sejanus -apparently doesn’t suspect that Pilate is dipping too heavily into the -taxes, if he is ... and I can’t say yet that he is. That was one -question he kept coming back to in talking with me, if there was any -evidence that the Procurator was not sending to Rome all the revenues he -was supposed to.” - -“Did the Prefect indicate that he might call Pilate to Rome for -questioning?” - -“I couldn’t say that he did. But if the Procurator should be ordered to -the capital to justify his administration of Judaea, he won’t be -returned, you can be sure. The same thing is true of Herod Antipas. I -believe the Procurator and the Tetrarch stand in precarious positions; -the next few months could determine the fate of both.” - -Longinus left the palace soon after Pilate had departed; he and Claudia, -they agreed, would meet again when the opportunity was afforded. But -that opportunity did not come quickly; he did not return to the palace -until the Procurator summoned him there to discuss plans for the -forthcoming journey to Jerusalem. - -A week later the Procurator and his party, with Longinus commanding one -of the escorting centuries, set out for Israel’s capital and the great -Feast of the Passover. - - - - - Jerusalem - - - [Illustration: decorative glyph] - - - - - 39 - - -The caravan from Galilee had halted on the plain before Jericho for rest -and the midday meal, and now the Tetrarch’s party and the escorting -soldiers of Cornelius’ century were preparing to resume their journey. -Two days and a half of steady traveling southward had brought them from -Tiberias through the rapidly greening gorge of the Jordan, and soon they -would face the most grueling and dangerous part of the journey, the -steep and boulder-locked climb to Jerusalem. - -Centurion Cornelius, who had been making a quick inspection of the -assembled legionaries, approached Herod Antipas and saluted. “Sire, I -need now to determine your wishes”—he bowed to Herodias—“and the wishes -of the Tetrarchess, for the remainder of our journey up to Jerusalem. If -you wish to rest awhile, we could make camp here and leave early in the -morning for Jerusalem. Or we could move on now and camp for the night -where the Jericho road begins its ascent to Jerusalem. But if you -prefer, we can set out now and not stop until we reach the capital, -though it will probably be well past nightfall before we enter the -city.” - -“Are you fearful of traveling the Jericho road after the sun has set, -Centurion?” Antipas inquired. “Do you think that perhaps robbers or -zealot bands might sweep down on us from the rocks?” - -“I have no fear, Sire; certainly none, if they knew our strength, would -attempt it. And before we enter that region, I’ll rearrange our order of -march to strengthen our guard against a surprise attack.” - -“Then I suggest that we continue on to Jerusalem today,” Herodias spoke -up. “We can rest better tomorrow in the palace than we can here in camp, -even though”—she turned malevolent eyes on the Tetrarch, and her tone -was bitterly sarcastic—“we shall be lodging in the old Hasmonean Palace -in order that our Palace of the Herods may be occupied by the Procurator -and his wife.” - -“Yes, the Tetrarchess is right, Centurion,” Antipas agreed -complaisantly. “Let’s push on to Jerusalem today.” He ignored his wife’s -caustic remark. “We’ll have tonight and all tomorrow to rest before the -start of the Passover celebration.” - -Beyond Jericho, where the Peraean road joined the road up from Galilee -and one that came down along the western side of the Jordan from the -region of Ephraim, the way began to fill with pilgrims going up to -Israel’s capital for the annual great spring festival of the Passover. -As the caravan neared the point where the road began its steep climb, -Cornelius called a halt. While the Tetrarch and Herodias were having a -brief respite from their saddles, he called in his legionaries and -changed the pattern of their advance. Down through the Jordan valley -they had been moving in column along the roadway with guards ahead of -and behind the Tetrarch’s party and only now and then a few soldiers on -the flanks. - -But now Cornelius gave orders to Decius to divide the century into three -groups, the largest of which would continue along the Jericho road, -while the other two would move forward with the Tetrarch’s group, one on -its right flank, the other on the left, and each several hundred yards -from the road. - -“I’m not expecting any trouble,” he explained, “but if there are any -Zealots lying in wait for us, in all probability they’ll be up there in -that defile where the road cuts through the rocks. You men out on the -flanks will be able to beat them off; if they’re crouched beside the -road, we’ll trap them between your columns and us.” - -When the division of the century had been completed, the centurion had a -final warning. “Stay abreast of us, and keep in contact. And now, let’s -get moving. Men, keep your eyes open. These Zealots are bent on killing -every Roman in Palestine. They’re clever, and they know every foot of -ground in this region.” - -The steep rise of the narrow Jericho road and the push of pilgrims -trudging ahead slowed the progress of the caravan, and it was nearing -sunset when once more Cornelius halted the column. “It’s been a hard -climb, and the animals are laboring,” he explained to the Tetrarch. “A -short rest will refresh us for the last few miles into Jerusalem. Soon -we’ll be past the boulders and can move faster. And with danger of -assault by robbers ended, we can pull in our flanking files. So we -should be approaching Jerusalem by nightfall.” - -But the centurion had spoken too quickly. They went hardly a mile -farther and were moving slowly through the last narrow defile in the -ascending road before it veered sharply around screening boulders to -come on a level plateau extending to the vicinity of Bethany; the -caravan was strung out in a long column and the advance guard had -disappeared around the turn in the gorge-like roadway. In the instant -that Herod and the Tetrarchess, with Cornelius and several of the -escorting legionaries just ahead of or behind them, had advanced into -the narrowest portion of the rock-walled canyon, they heard a sudden -commotion above them. Looking up, they saw on each side of the pass, -glaring down upon them and with spears poised, a group of grizzled, -fierce-eyed insurgents. - -“Halt, Roman dogs!” shouted a hulking, reddish-bearded fellow, as he -drew back his spear menacingly. “Get down from your beast before I nail -you to his belly like a thief to his cross! And you”—with his free hand -he gestured toward the Tetrarch—“you traitor to Israel, you fawning -puppet of evil Rome, stay where you are! You, too”—his angry black eyes -were studying Herodias—“you adulterous sharer of your uncle’s bed, don’t -you move!” - -“Who are you? What do you want?” Cornelius demanded loudly, in the hope -that his soldiers in the flanking columns would hear. - -“You needn’t be screaming, soldier,” the burly fellow said calmly. -“There’s nobody to help you. We have you surrounded. See?” He pointed to -his men in the rocks on the other side of the road. “One wrong move and -we’ll stick your carcasses full of spears. And you needn’t be hoping for -help from those up ahead”—he motioned—“or down there.” He threw back his -bearish great head and roared his laughter. “We have them cornered, -too.” Then suddenly he was scowling again. “You dogs of Rome! Throw down -your weapons! Quickly, before we forget ourselves and let our spears -fly!” - -“Do as he says, men,” Cornelius commanded, dropping his sword. “But what -do you want?” he asked the highwaymen’s leader again. He had decided -that the safest course would be to pretend that he knew nothing of the -rebel group, that ruthless party of guerrilla-fighting revolutionaries -known as Zealots who had sworn not to rest until every imperialist Roman -had been vanquished from their nation’s soil. “We have brought little -money,” he said casually. “We aren’t Jews, you know; we aren’t going up -to Jerusalem to purchase animals for the Passover sacrifices.” - -The centurion’s thrust at the Israelites seemed to incense the fellow. -“No, you mongrel of a Roman,” he roared, “nor would your sacrifice be -acceptable to Israel’s God were you of a mind to offer it! Now get down, -all you Romans! We’re taking your horses. But you and your woman, Herod, -stay where you are. We’re taking you with us for ransom, and if the -money isn’t quickly forthcoming to redeem you”—he tugged at his flaring -dirt-caked beard and once again laughed uproariously—“we’ll skin you and -one dark night pin your worthless hides to the door of old Herod’s -Palace.” But quickly his demeanor changed again. He turned to glare at -his comrades. “Get down there and pick up their weapons,” he commanded, -“and mount the horses. We’ve got to be getting back into the hills. And -you, Bildad and Achbor, I’ll hold you accountable for the Tetrarch. -Dysmas and Cush, you take charge of the woman.” His sneering countenance -softened into an evil grinning. “And see that no harm comes to her. I -may wish myself to examine her seductive charms.” - -Antipas sat staring stonily ahead, his countenance a frozen mask of -fear. But anger added a flush to the cheeks of the frightened -Tetrarchess. She did not venture, however, to challenge the man’s -insulting remark. - -The revolutionaries scampered like sure-footed mountain goats down from -the rocks and quickly assembled the swords that Cornelius’ soldiers had -thrown to the ground. The leader, who had stayed in his position atop an -overjutting boulder, watched eagle-eyed along with several of his band -who had continued to stand guard. “Issachar, you and Nadab see to the -weapons those frightened dogs have thrown down,” he called. “See that -not one remains to them when we’re gone. Now, Achbor and you, Bildad, -get started with the Tetrarch, and let the woman follow. Men, mount the -horses”—he paused an instant to watch one of his men who was having -trouble getting into the saddle—“all you who know how to ride a horse -... and Coz, you don’t, I see.” - -“But you can’t get away into the rocks with these horses. You have our -swords; why don’t you leave us the horses...?” - -“And let you fly into Jerusalem and have old Pilate’s soldiers combing -through the hills for us? Oh, no, Roman dog, we aren’t fools. You’ll -stand in your tracks until we’re gone, or we’ll come charging back and -slit your throats and leave you here for the vultures to clean your -bones.” He suddenly whirled about, for from behind him came the sound of -men running through the rocks back from the road. - -“Romans! Romans!” Cornelius heard someone shouting in Aramaic. “Fly! -Roman soldiers!” In the next instant a bearded, coarse fellow burst into -view above the deep-cut trail. “We can’t stand against them, Bar Abbas; -there are too many of them!” he shouted. “We’d better get across the -road and into those rocks!” He looked down and spied his companions and -their captured party. “The Romans!” he yelled. “Fly men! There are too -many for us to fight them!” - -“Fly!” yelled the gang’s leader. “Go out through that ravine!” He -pointed. “Get yourselves lost in the rocks, and hurry!” He turned to the -man who had just rushed up to him. “How many did there appear to be, -Hamor?” - -“Many. I could not count them. We speared several before they discovered -us....” - -“Fools! If you’d held your peace and stayed under cover, they wouldn’t -have known you were there. Now you’ve caused us to be flushed out. By -the beard of the High Priest, Hamor, haven’t I warned you...?” - -“But we thought there were only a handful....” - -“Through that way!” Bar Abbas turned his back toward the road and was -signaling the revolutionaries racing toward him. Cornelius, who since -his first sight of the burly fellow had suspected he was the notorious -Zealot marauder, couldn’t see the fleeing Israelites, but he could hear -their sandals slapping against the loose stones. And close behind -them—he was able distinctly to distinguish the sound of their heavy -boots crunching the gravel and scattering the pebbles—came the pursuing -legionaries of his flanking file on the west. - -Already the assailants in the defile of the road were fleeing. Some -clambered up the steep sides of the little ravine that opened into the -gulch of the roadway and disappeared into the sheltering boulders above; -others ran down the road to the end of the canyon and turned eastward; -several went the other way along the narrow trail and then turned off in -the same direction the others had taken. But before they had all cleared -the road, Bar Abbas and his companions on the boulders above, still -clutching their spears, had dropped into the defile and without a glance -toward their now liberated prisoners had scampered into the converging -ravine. - -Hardly had the burly Bar Abbas disappeared before the pursuing Romans -were plunging into the boulders beside the road. In another moment -several of them were peering down into the narrow roadway. In that same -instant Cornelius, looking up, spied Decius. “Here!” the centurion -called out. “Down that way!” He pointed. “Hurry!” - -“Cornelius, by all the gods, you aren’t going to let them get away, are -you!” screamed Herodias, having suddenly found her voice. - -“But, my dear Herodias”—Antipas turned ponderously in his saddle to face -his spouse—“certainly the centurion knows what....” - -“Hah! The Tetrarch has come to life! He speaks, now that Bar Abbas and -his revolutionaries have fled,” she observed sneeringly. - -“Bar Abbas,” Cornelius said, ignoring the Tetrarchess and Herod, as -Decius and several of his detachment clambered down into the road. “They -pounced on us from the rocks there”—he pointed—“and had us disarmed. I -was hoping you would hear the commotion.” - -“They jumped us the same way, Centurion,” Decius said. “I think they -killed two of our men. I left some men with them. We got several of the -revolutionaries, though.” - -“It’s a poor exchange. But get after him, Decius. Here, Galba, Licinius, -Mallius”—Cornelius called out a half dozen of the men who had been in -his detachment—“go with them; you saw Bar Abbas; you’ll know him.” -Already the men were grabbing up their swords from the pile Bar Abbas’ -men had left in their rush to get away. “They were headed east, toward -the Wilderness. In a moment they’ll be running into Lucius on the flank -over there. If he can turn them back, we’ll have them in a bag. But they -may break through him. Stay after them, Decius; get that Bar Abbas, and -try to take him alive.” He turned to another of his men. “Livius, take a -detachment and go down the road; you saw where the revolutionaries -turned off left. Marius, take your squad and go that way”—he pointed up -the Jericho road toward Jerusalem—“and run down those that fled in that -direction; you saw where they turned off. Follow them. And all of you be -careful; we want no more ambushes.” He called out several more names. -“You men stay here with me,” he said. “We’ll see that no harm comes to -the Tetrarch and his lady.” He smiled wryly as he looked toward -Herodias. “We almost didn’t do that awhile ago.” Then he turned again to -Decius. “We’re moving out of this trap in here, though,” he said. “We’ll -be up there a thousand paces. And hurry, men; it will soon be dark in -those rocks.” He signaled for them to be off. “I want that Bar Abbas.” - -Less than half an hour later Marius and his men returned. They were -leading a manacled Israelite. “We saw only five men,” Marius reported. -“Two of them we killed, and this one we cornered between two big rocks. -The other two slipped away; we searched, but we’re sure they’re gone -now. This fellow is a Galilean, named Gesmas, he says.” - -“And you had nobody hurt?” Marius nodded. “Good. Keep a sharp eye on -this fellow.” Cornelius pointed. “Livius is coming in. No prisoners, I -believe.” - -Livius reported that his men had killed or wounded several of the -fleeing revolutionaries. He had had only one man cut slightly by an -Israelite’s desperately wielded spear; the weapon had grazed the -soldier’s shoulder. “We saw no signs of Lucius’ flanking file,” Livius -revealed. “They must have been up ahead, and the revolutionaries we were -pursuing must have slipped around their rear. They know this country; -they simply disappeared like conies into those big rocks. But maybe -Lucius intercepted some of those that Decius went after.” - -“Look!” One of the Romans pointed. “There’s Decius.” Having moved up -from the narrow defile through the boulders, they could see out on both -sides of the road. “And he has two prisoners.” - -“Yes. And one of them, by all the gods”—Cornelius was straining to see -more clearly in the gathering dusk—“is Bar Abbas! Great Jove, he caught -the big prize!” - -The other Israelite, too, they discovered in a moment, was a much wanted -revolutionary, one of Bar Abbas’ principal lieutenants, a Galilean named -Dysmas. - -Lucius had stayed out on the flank, Decius explained, to prevent any -sudden desperate attempt of the Zealots to rescue their leader. They -were still no doubt in the rocks back from the road, perhaps regrouping -their scattered forces. - -“From here into Jerusalem the road is clear, and they won’t be able to -prepare any ambush.” The centurion called out four soldiers standing -near him. “Go tell Lucius to come in nearer. We can move faster that -way, and in the deepening darkness it will be safer for everybody. Tell -him we’re starting at once for Jerusalem.” As they were leaving, he -turned again to Decius. “See that the prisoners are bound securely, and -manacle each one between two of our men. And box them in with guards. -Give them no chance of getting away from us or being rescued.” - -Herodias had been watching silently but with evident interest. “It seems -to me, Centurion,” she observed petulantly, “that you could prevent -either eventuality by executing these rebel scum right now.” - -“I am a Roman soldier, Tetrarchess. These men have had no trial.” - -She pointed to her silent spouse, glumly sitting his horse. “He is the -Tetrarch of Galilee and Peraea. These revolutionaries are Galileans. He -is the proper one to try them.” - -“No, my dear Herodias,” Antipas spoke out. “This is neither the time nor -the place to conduct any trial. Centurion, let us proceed with your -plans to go on into Jerusalem.” - -Herodias lifted her head haughtily, but she made no reply. As soon as -the caravan re-formed and was ready for the march, Cornelius gave the -command to move forward. Less than two hours later he led the Tetrarch -and Tetrarchess through the gate and let them and their servants into -the gloomy pile of the old Hasmonean Palace. From there he marched his -century to the Fortress of Antonia, where he surrendered his three -prisoners to the dungeon jailer, who locked them, still bound securely, -in the darkness and squalor of one of the lowest-level cells. - -When he had seen to the quartering of his men in their Antonia barracks, -he climbed the stone stairway in the southwestern tower and walked along -the corridor to the room he had been assigned in the officers’ quarters. -He had decided he would have a steaming bath and put on fresh clothing -before going down to the mess for a late evening meal. - -The chamber, the centurion found, was close and warm. He pushed open the -window; then he unbolted the door and walked out onto the balcony. Down -below lights blazed in the Temple courts, and men scurried to and fro, -already in a frenzy of Passover preparations. - - - - - 40 - - -Once again the household of Procurator Pontius Pilate was settled in the -magnificent great Palace of the Herods; once again the ancient capital -of Israel was teeming with countless Jews come up for the Feast of the -Passover. - -From every region and hamlet, almost from every home, in Judaea, -Samaria, Peraea, and Galilee, from Antioch, Damascus, Tarsus, -Alexandria, Memphis, and Cyrene, from Ephesus, Athens, and Corinth, from -all provinces rimming the Great Sea, even to Rome and beyond, from the -islands of Cyprus and Sardinia and Sicily and Crete and those numerous -smaller ones dotting the Aegean, devout Israelites had swarmed into -Jerusalem’s crowded narrow ways and squares before the gates. - -Every Jewish home, whether pretentious stone residence crowning Mount -Zion or squalid malodorous hovel burrowed beneath the city’s walls in -noisome Ophel, was overflowing with pilgrim kinsmen returned for this -greatest annual feast of Israel. For every person living in Jerusalem, -Centurion Longinus casually estimated as he stood on Fortress Antonia’s -balcony outside his chamber, perhaps ten pilgrims had squirmed -themselves inside the walls of the old city. And countless other -thousands had been unable to find living quarters within the walls. -Throngs of Passover celebrants overflowed the slope downward to the -Brook Kidron and up the eastern rise past Gethsemane to the summit of -the Mount of Olives and as far as Bethany. To the south, beyond the ever -smoldering fires of the refuse dumps in the Hinnom valley, and to the -west, tents and brush arbors of Passover pilgrims dotted the untilled -areas through which ran the Bethlehem road. Northward, too, though -Longinus could not survey that section of Jerusalem and its environs -because of the great tower at his back, and to his right over beyond the -massive pile of the Palace of the Herods, for many furlongs past the -Ephraim and Joppa Gates, thin curlings of grayish-white smoke spiraled -upward from small fires over which Passover pilgrims were bending now in -preparation of the evening meal. - -Longinus had been quartered near the Centurion Cornelius, but he had -hardly seen his friend. The night of Cornelius’ arrival from Galilee -with the Tetrarch’s party and his three Zealot prisoners, they had -talked briefly in the mess hall, but they were both weary from the -traveling and soon retired to their beds. The next day Pontius Pilate, -greatly pleased at the capture of the wily zealot chieftain, had ordered -Cornelius to take his century and scour the rocks above the Jericho road -into which the evening before the marauders had disappeared. He had -commanded the centurion to ferret out every member of Bar Abbas’ band -and either capture or kill him. “And follow them as far as Galilee if -need be, Centurion,” the Procurator had instructed him. “Capture any you -can, and bring them back here; we will crucify them during the Passover -festival, and for the thousands of rebellious, stubborn Jews who will -see them dying on the crosses it will be a salutary lesson. It may help -them realize what fate awaits those who thus oppose Rome’s authority and -power.” - -Longinus wondered what success Cornelius was having. Evidently he had -been forced to pursue the fleeing revolutionaries a long way, perhaps -even as far as Galilee, where they might expect to find haven among -kinsmen and friends. No doubt the attackers of the Tetrarch’s party had -separated in their flight from the soldiers of Cornelius. It would be -particularly difficult, virtually impossible, in fact, to round up all -the revolutionaries Bar Abbas had been leading, Longinus felt. In all -probability, he reasoned, a number of them had slipped into Jerusalem a -few minutes after Cornelius had entered the city, perhaps even ahead of -his caravan, and were now safely lost among the tens of thousands -deluging the ancient capital. - -Nor had Longinus had an opportunity thus far to spend any considerable -time alone with Claudia. Though Pilate had been keeping close to his -headquarters in the fortress during the day-time, he had been returning -to the palace at night, and his bedchamber was beside Claudia’s and -connected with it by a doorway. The Procurator, too, had issued orders -for all officers not on active duty to be quickly available; Pilate -seemed unusually restive. Longinus felt that Pilate was determined to -prevent any small turmoil among the Jews from developing into a crisis -whose handling by him might further jeopardize his standing with the -Prefect Sejanus and the Emperor. With so many Jews congregated in -Israel’s holy city on a festival occasion so characteristically Jewish -and one that so emphasized the peculiarly nationalistic spirit of the -Jews, the situation was always highly inflammable. A small spark, if not -snuffed quickly, could blaze into a holocaust. - -One such minor incident that had taken place on the first day of the -Jewish week might have provided such a spark, had the principal actor in -it been of a mind to cause trouble. And, strangely, without having known -what he was seeing, Longinus had witnessed this small happening. - -He had breakfasted early with several fellow officers and had come up to -his chamber this particular morning, when, to enjoy a stirring of the -already warming April air, he had stepped out onto the balcony. Down -below him the Court of the Gentiles was a hive of bustling activity. Out -beyond the eastern wall in the direction he happened to be looking the -slopes were alive with pilgrims preparing for the great festival. But up -on the balcony he was safe from the stir and seething and the -interminable chattering of excited Jewry, and a gentle breeze fanned -him. He sat on the wide stone railing of the rampart, and idly his gaze -went down the nearer slope to the Brook Kidron and along the meandering -road on the other side as it climbed past Gethsemane’s olive grove -toward the hill’s summit. - -It was then that he noticed a procession moving slowly but with evident -enthusiasm downward over this road toward the city from the direction of -Bethany. Immediately his interest was attracted to the motley parade. -Above the harsh cries of the hawkers in the Temple courts, the -quarrelsome tones of bargaining, and the dull lowing of the cattle in -the stalls awaiting sacrificing on the Great Altar, Longinus could -distinguish the screamed hosannas of this unrestrained movement of -dancing, singing, joyous people. Many of them were waving green branches -they must have torn from trees and shrubs along the roadside. -Occasionally the centurion would catch sight of an erect, tall man -astride a white donkey. He adjudged the man to be tall, because his feet -were not far from the gravel of the road as he sat astride the beast. -And then he would lose sight of the rider as the shouting celebrants -swirled about him. - -Some popular rabbi with his people coming up to Jerusalem for the -Passover, Longinus surmised, as he watched the writhing column approach -the Brook Kidron crossing. Soon it disappeared under the walls down near -Dung Gate, but presently it emerged again into his sight; he followed -its progress through the cavernous alleys of Ophel, sometimes seeing it -crossing a narrow opening between huddled buildings but hearing without -interruption its lively shouts and chantings, until it came into clearer -view at a stairway in the street pushing upward along Mount Moriah -toward the Temple now resplendent in the morning sunshine. - -Inside the Court of the Gentiles, which the strange little caravan of -one rider and his evidently unorganized but plainly joyous adherents had -reached by coming in through the Gate Shalleketh, the tall man -dismounted, and someone quickly led the little animal away. In another -moment the shouting and hosannas had ceased, and soon the centurion lost -the rider in the press of the Temple throng. - -Later that day in crossing the Court of the Gentiles to go out through -the Gate Shalleketh and onto the bridge over the Tyropoeon, which was -the easiest way to Mount Zion from the fortress, Longinus learned that -the man on the donkey was the rabbi from Galilee. Many of his followers -had expected the rabbi, whose fame by now had spread throughout Judaea, -to come into the precincts of the Temple, proclaim himself Yahweh’s -Messiah and the ruler of the world, and call down legions of heavenly -angels utterly to destroy every vestige of Rome’s dominion. Now these -followers were deeply disappointed and utterly chagrined. The tall one -from Galilee in whom they had put their trust, the one who would be -Israel’s new David to deliver it from its mighty enemy, had failed them. - -But what if this Jesus had really fancied himself a man ordained to lead -his little nation in throwing off the yoke of Rome? What, reasoned the -centurion, if he had been as visionary, as passionately though unwisely -patriotic as countless other Jews assembled here in Rome for Israel’s -great celebration? In this tense, highly inflammable atmosphere of -Passover week in Jerusalem, with great numbers of his followers -believing that he possessed supernatural authority and powers, the -rabbi’s willingness to allow himself to be proclaimed Israel’s king -would have resulted in fearful bloodshed. But this Jesus at the last -moment had either lost his courage, or else he had never contemplated -leadership of Israel except in some vague, religious sense that -Cornelius perhaps would term spiritual. At any rate, Longinus concluded, -the Galilean was no threat to Rome and of no concern to the Empire. In -his report to Sejanus, he would make no mention of the rabbi, unless in -some manner Pontius Pilate might become involved with the man from -Galilee. He wondered if Pilate had even been informed of the little -procession that had come to such an inglorious ending within the Temple -court. He wondered if Pilate, in fact, in his harried administration of -the affairs of Judaea had ever heard of this Jesus. - - - - - 41 - - -Claudia sat on a small stone bench facing one of the fountains in the -garden of the Palace of the Herods. All about her the grass was a -luxuriant green and the flower beds, fed, she had been told, with blood -drained through subterranean pipes from the overflow of the Great Altar, -were already ablaze with color. Birds skipped and twittered in the rich -foliage, and now and then some venturing small animal would skitter -across an open patch of bright sunshine to disappear beneath the -branches of a flowering shrub. The bench, shaded by a gnarled great -olive, was invitingly cool despite the day’s warmth and heaviness, and -the gentle babble of the spraying water ordinarily would have lulled one -sitting there into a mood of peaceful contemplation, if not pleasant -slumber. - -But this afternoon the wife of the Procurator felt neither peaceful nor -pleasant. She watched the fountain’s waters lifting and arching and -falling and draining away in an undeviating pattern of movement and -allowed her own thoughts to wander with it. - -_... There is the picture of my living. Like the water that is the -thrust-along prisoner of the pump, or the ram which again and again -lifts it and sends it spurting upward only to fall back and sink down -and be forced up again, I am the prisoner of some malign power that -pushes me along through a dull monotony of_ _days that I am powerless -even to protest against; I am swirled about but held fast like that -water in a routine of existence I dare not even challenge...._ - -She leaned forward with her head upon her hands and glared, hardly -seeing it, at the captive, dancing water. How, by Bona Dea and all the -good and gentle gods, the kind and happily ministering gods, how, by -Pluto and all his evil soot-begrimed and blackened imps, could she -escape the treadmill of this deadening monotony, this unending, -bedeviling frustration? Granddaughter of the great god Augustus, -stepdaughter of the great god Tiberius, granddaughter of the -almost-great god Mark Antony and the great great goddess Cleopatra, wife -of the mighty Procurator of Judaea, daughter through Augustus of Jove -himself, princess of the blood.... - -“Bah!” She said it aloud. But there was nobody near-by in the garden. -She sat back against the coolness of the stone. “By all the gods, why -couldn’t I have been a wench serving tables in a tavern, a strumpet down -in the Subura, and had my freedom!” - -_... Why, by all the gods, can’t old Tiberius die? He’s past seventy -now, and of what service is he to the Empire? And Sejanus, the old rake, -must be past sixty. If someone would give the Prefect a neat sword -thrust...._ - -She stood up and walked over to the fountain, held out her hands to the -spraying water and lifted wet palms to her flushed cheeks. The afternoon -was still and depressing. She raised her eyes and saw above the trees -and the turreted nearest corner of the great palace rounded soft white -puffs of clouds, like newly lifted fresh curds in a deeply blue -overturned bowl. “A storm,” she said to herself, “one of those swiftly -arrived, quickly gone, fierce Judaean storms. But it will clear the air -of this blanket of heat, and it will serve to break for a while the -monotony of another fruitless day.” - -But she did not go inside. She sat down again and watched the gathering -puffs of clouds. Never had she been afraid of storms, even ominous -thunder and the swift, sharp streaks of lightning. She remembered that -once in her early childhood when a governess had warned her against -staying outdoors and running the risk of being struck by one of Jove’s -hurled mighty bolts, she had remarked, “If old Jove is clever enough to -strike me with a bolt outdoors, why can’t he throw one right through the -roof and hit me while I’m inside? I don’t believe he can hit me whether -I’m outside or inside.” - -Her blasphemous words had woefully shocked the governess, but Claudia -had never seen cause to retract them. One thing had led to another; from -denying Jove’s power she had soon come to deny his very existence, and -with his, the existence likewise of the entire pantheon of lesser gods -and goddesses. - -She was still seated on the bench when a palace servant came out to -announce that a soldier had arrived from Fortress Antonia with a message -for her. - -“Then bring him here,” she instructed the servant. Could it be, she -wondered, that the man is bringing a message from Longinus? - -But the legionary had been sent to her by the Procurator. Pilate, he -reported, would not be returning to the palace either for the evening -meal or to spend the night. He begged to explain to his wife that he had -had a very trying day and that he would be engaged until late in the -evening. He had agreed to give an audience to the High Priest Caiaphas, -and their meeting might well be extended into the night. He had decided, -therefore, to forego the privilege and pleasure of dining with the -Procuratoress; he would have supper in his quarters and after he had -ended his long day’s duties would spend the remainder of the night -there. - -Her first thought was of getting a message to Longinus. She would write -it, seal it fast, and send it by the legionary. - -“Thank you,” she said to the soldier. “I shall want you to carry a -message to the Fortress.” She stood up. “I’ll go inside and prepare it.” -But would it be a discreet thing to do, sending a message to Longinus by -this legionary? What if by chance it should fall into other hands, even -Pilate’s? “No, there’s no need of my writing it,” she said. “Just tell -the Procurator that I thank him for informing me and that I shall see -him at his pleasure tomorrow.” - -But she would find a way of notifying Longinus. Tullia. Of course. -Tullia was one person upon whose loyalty and good judgment she could -always depend. When Tullia returned, she would send her to Longinus. - -A soft breeze had sprung up and was pushing the storm clouds gently -away; the air had cooled; the storm seemed to have been averted for the -day. Claudia rose from the bench and returned to her apartment in the -palace. - -When a few minutes later her maid returned, she was carrying a small -wicker basket. “Mistress, I found these in one of the markets near the -Temple,” she said, beaming as she held out the basket to Claudia. “I -thought you might enjoy them.” - -“Fresh figs? And so early?” She picked one up. “It really is a fresh -one, isn’t it?” - -“Yes, and I’ve washed them. You can eat it right now. I was surprised to -find any this early, but the man explained that in some of the warm -coves on the protected side of Olivet they often have figs ripening in -early April.” - -Claudia pulled the fig open and nibbled at the firm reddish flesh -inside. “It’s delicious,” she said, “and such a surprise.” She saw that -Tullia’s eyes were ablaze with an excitement, however, that no discovery -of fresh figs could have provoked. “What is it, little one? What -happened? Whom did you see?” - -“Mistress, I was looking at the figs when I heard a familiar voice -speaking to the merchant. I looked around; it was Mary of Magdala.” - -Jesus and his little group, she had told Tullia, had come down from the -Ephraim hills for the Passover. Her master was spending his nights with -Martha and Mary and Lazarus out at near-by Bethany; during the day he -came into the Temple courts to teach. - -“Perhaps, then, he will proclaim himself the Messiah of Israel and -establish a new government,” Tullia said she had said to Mary. But the -Magdalene had answered that Jesus seemed to be insisting instead that he -would not become Israel’s temporal ruler, that he would even die as a -sort of Passover sacrifice, an offering for the salvation of his people. - -“But surely,” Claudia commented, “you Jews would never so debase -yourselves as to offer a human sacrifice, as do those who worship -Moloch.” - -“It wouldn’t be that way, Mistress. But ... I don’t believe it will ever -happen anyway.” - -Mary had asked Tullia to spend the night with her in a cottage out at -Bethany near the modest home of Lazarus and his sisters. She might be -able to see Jesus and even talk with him. They would meet, if Claudia -should be agreeable, at Shushan Gate before sunset and go out to -Bethany. - -“Then you’d best be going soon,” Claudia observed. “But before you meet -Mary, I want you to go by Fortress Antonia and tell Longinus that the -Procurator will be spending the night there.” She told the maid of the -message Pilate had sent her. “And tell Longinus I’ll accept no excuse -for his failing to come.” - - - - - 42 - - -The lean, blue-jowled ascetic face of Joseph Caiaphas, High Priest of -Israel, warmed into a disarming smile, and the flames from the chamber’s -wall lamps danced in his sharp, dark eyes. - -“Excellency,” he said, “you must be exasperated at my coming to you at -this late hour.” He faced the Procurator across the ornate, heavy desk. -“I know you are tired, and I appreciate the fact that the strain you’ve -been undergoing ever since your arrival in Judaea has been intensified -during these recent inflammable days of the Passover season.” He leaned -nearer Pilate. “I realize, too, Excellency, that you must be determined -to prevent the repetition of events in Palestine that might result in -the dispatching to Rome of further damaging reports”—the Procurator’s -florid round face darkened, but Caiaphas pretended not to -notice—“challenging the excellence of the Procurator’s administration of -the affairs of this province.” - -“I am tired; I’ve had a long day.” Pilate’s tone revealed irritation. -“Perhaps if the High Priest would proceed at once to the business he had -in coming....” - -“Indeed, Excellency,” the High Priest interrupted, “and I shall require -little of your time, so that shortly you may go to your well-earned -couch. A fortunate event of the day has facilitated the early -satisfactory disposition of the business; if the Procurator will -co-operate in disposing of it we shall quickly rid ourselves of a -grievous threat both to Israel’s peace and to the Procurator’s rule. I -have just come from a lengthy session of the elders of Israel, -Excellency—that explains my late arrival here—at which we have -agreed....” - -“But what is the business you would lay before me? And how would it -affect the Procurator’s administration of the government in Judaea?” -Pilate’s impatience had put a sharp edge on his voice. “If it is a -question of the alleged violation of certain religious laws of the -Jews....” - -“It is that, Excellency, but it is more.” Caiaphas leaned forward, and -the light of the lamps flashed in the gems of his rings. “Not only would -this man destroy our religion, but likewise would he destroy the rule of -Rome in Palestine.” - -“This man? Are you speaking of one Bar Abbas? He has been seized, with -two of his fellow revolutionaries. They go to the cross tomorrow.” - -The High Priest shook his head. “It is not that one, Excellency. The man -is a Galilean, one Jesus bar Joseph, not a robber like Bar Abbas, but a -far more dangerous revolutionary, whom his misguided followers—and their -number is growing, Excellency—are proclaiming not only the Messiah of -God but also the next King of Israel. Were noise to get back to the -Prefect Sejanus or the Emperor that such a person was being permitted to -advocate and plan Rome’s overthrow and your Excellency’s -supplanting....” - -“But does the High Priest know where this man is? Does the Sanhedrin -have him in its custody?” - -Calmly Joseph Caiaphas stroked his oiled and braided long beard. “He is -in Jerusalem at this moment, Excellency, or within the close environs of -the city. It is possible that already he has been seized by the Temple -guard. He has been at the Feast since the first day of the week when he -entered Jerusalem riding on a white donkey, which among the Jews is a -symbol of royalty, Excellency. It was then that he had planned to enlist -the Passover pilgrims, led by his fellow Galileans, in proclaiming him -the new David, the King of Israel suddenly freed of Rome’s domination. -He lost his courage, though, or in some manner his plans failed of -materialization. But”—his hand stabbed out again at the Procurator—“the -fellow is still intent on seizing power, and his countless misguided -followers are determined to see him established on the throne as King of -Israel. They will plunge our ancient land into revolution, Excellency. -Blood will flow freely throughout Judaea and Galilee. Many Roman -soldiers will die before the rebellion is crushed, unless”—his forehead -wrinkled in heavy concern—“this fellow is quietly slain, Excellency, -before his followers can rally.” - -“You say that perhaps he has been arrested already. How could he be -taken without alarming these supporters of whom you speak?” - -The High Priest leaned back in his chair and folded his long arms across -his chest. “The God of Israel has favored us, Excellency. He has -delivered this blasphemer into our hands through his betrayal by one of -his own band. This man came to us and after seeking pay told us he would -point out where the man might be found and taken with little commotion. -We gave the fellow thirty pieces of silver. By now no doubt he has -delivered his leader into the hands of the guardsmen....” - -“You say this man’s a blasphemer. Don’t you know that the Procurator is -not concerned with violations of your religious code? What is it to Rome -if your Yahweh is blasphemed? We will not enter into the religious -quarrels of the Jews. I presume you have come here to ask me to try the -man and find him guilty. I say, O High Priest, try the man yourself.” - -Caiaphas smiled indulgently, but then his brow furrowed again and he -scowled darkly. “That is true, Excellency. Rome has no concern with -Israel’s worship of our God. But is not Rome concerned when a man, under -the guise of teaching a new religion, declares openly that he will -establish a new government in Israel? Would not Sejanus and the Emperor -consider then that Rome was concerned ... and deeply concerned?” - -The High Priest’s clever thrust had made its mark; Pilate’s face -flushed; his tone, when he replied, was petulant. “Of course, the -Prefect and the Emperor would be concerned; so would the Legate -Vitellius, and so would the Procurator; so, in fact, would any loyal -Roman.” Now the Procurator extended his own finger to point. “But how do -you know that this Galilean advocates the overthrow of Rome? Has he come -to trial? Has he faced witnesses against him? What would the High Priest -have me to do, send a man to his death without trial? Certainly the High -Priest must know that Rome is ruled by law, that no man under the rule -of Rome may suffer death until he has been adjudged guilty, and that any -such judgment can come only after a fair trial in which the man has been -confronted by witnesses against him.” - -“Indeed, O Procurator”—Joseph Caiaphas held up a soothing palm—“we well -know that and approve. We, too, would never consent to sending this -revolutionary to his death without trial, even though his crimes against -Israel and against Rome have already been conclusively established. But -he is being brought to fair trial, Excellency, before the great -Sanhedrin of Israel. Perhaps he has already been apprehended in the -Garden of Gethsemane, where he had planned to conceal himself with -certain of his followers, as we learned from the traitor who came to us. -He will be examined, no doubt before my beloved father-in-law Annas, -known for his piety and his wisdom, learned in the laws of Israel”—he -smiled warmly—“and strong in his devotion to the Prefect and the -Emperor. And then, Excellency, as soon as the dawn of the new day makes -it legal under our laws to conduct such a trial, the Galilean will be -brought before the Sanhedrin, confronted by witnesses against him, and -given proper trial.” - -“Then why has the High Priest,” Pilate asked in exasperation, “come to -me?” - -“O Excellency, the Procurator must know that the ancient laws of Israel, -now that Rome has become master, no longer apply in every detail. Should -our Sanhedrin find this revolutionary Galilean guilty of base crimes and -sentence him to death, it would still be powerless to carry out its -sentence without the approval of Rome. I am here, O Excellency, to -petition the Procurator to approve our verdict and sentence. And I urge -you to do this quickly, in order that the man may be executed while it -is yet early and before all Jerusalem, and the Galileans in particular, -are astir. Then much commotion and bloodshed would be prevented and,” he -added with a suggestive smile, “there would be no necessity of any -report’s going to Rome.” - -“But you wish me to condemn a man to death _before_ he has been tried?” -Pilate’s anger showed plainly in his frown. - -“Indeed, no, Excellency,” the High Priest replied calmly. “We only wish -you to approve and order into execution the sentence of the Sanhedrin in -the event that _after_ he has been tried, he is judged guilty.” - -Pilate shook his head. “No, I shall send no man to the cross or to death -by stoning until _I_ have tried him. To do so would be an unspeakable -breach of Rome’s system of justice.” - -“But, Excellency, would you show your scorn of Israel’s highest court?” - -“I would show only my determination to uphold Rome’s laws and -procedures. If you wish this man tried, then bring him before me at the -Procuratorium.” He bowed coldly. “And now, if the High Priest will -excuse me....” - -The High Priest stood up as though to leave. “Indeed, Excellency, I too -am greatly fatigued,” he said, “but one more point detains me. A moment -ago, Procurator Pilate, did I not hear you say that on the morrow you -were sending Bar Abbas to the cross? If so, Excellency, have you not -already convicted him?” - -Pilate’s smile was contemptuous as he, too, rose to his feet. “I did say -that, and I have no doubt that he will go to the cross. But not, O High -Priest, until he has been given trial, before he has been confronted by -witnesses who will testify to what they saw and heard as concerns those -charges that will be placed against him. I presume that many will appear -against this Bar Abbas and that he will be convicted. But I do not say -now that he will. I say only that he will be given a fair trial.” He -lifted a heavy fist and brought it forcefully down upon the surface of -his desk. “And so, by all the gods, will your Galilean!” - - - - - 43 - - -_... The knocking is insistent. Can it be that the Praetorian Guardsman -has been there a long time pounding on the door between the atrium and -the peristylium while I slowly awakened? Bona Dea, what can old Sejanus -want this time? Will he never cease hounding Longinus and me?_ - -_... Longinus. By the Bountiful Mother, maybe it’s Longinus returned -from Germania. Maybe he’s at the bedroom door opening on the -peristylium...._ - -“Just a moment, Centurion, until I get my robe!” Claudia sat up in bed, -rubbed her eyes, and shook her head to clear it. A narrow slash of -natural light showed through the not completely drawn draperies. It was -dawn. And burrowed in the pillow beside her was the close-cropped head -of the Centurion Longinus. - -Now the knocking had begun again. But it came, Claudia realized, from -the other side of the door between her bedroom and Tullia’s. And though -insistent, the knocking was not loud. “Mistress! Mistress! Oh, -Mistress!” - -She recognized her maid’s voice; Tullia was trying to awaken her without -making too much noise in the early morning stillness of the Palace of -the Herods. “Just a moment, little one,” she called out softly. At the -door she slid back the bolt. “But, Tullia,” she demanded, keeping her -voice low so that she would not awaken Longinus, “what are you doing -back so early? It must be hardly daylight. Why, little one....” she -paused, seeing the maid on the verge of tears. - -“Oh, Mistress, he’s in grave danger!” Tullia burst out. “They’ve seized -him. We fear great harm may befall him. That’s why I have come back to -seek your help for him.” She was making an obvious effort to gain -control of herself; somewhat calmed, she continued. “I started from -Bethany at the first glimmering of light, almost as soon as we heard -that he had been taken. We’re so afraid, Mistress, that great harm will -come to him unless....” - -“Let’s sit down”—Claudia’s tone was soothing—“and then quietly you can -tell me why you’re so afraid he’s going to suffer great injury. And who, -Tullia? You haven’t even told me his name.” - -“The Galilean, Mistress; I thought you knew. Sometime during the night -some Temple guardsmen came and seized him in the Garden of Gethsemane; -he’d gone there with his little band to rest after eating the Passover -meal at the home of Mary of Cypress. They say it was one of his own band -who betrayed him, who told the Temple priests where he could be found -and arrested without there being a big stir. Of course there would have -been a great commotion if they had tried to take him anywhere near the -Temple; they wouldn’t have dared to do such a thing if....” - -“But how do you know all this?” Claudia interrupted. “Maybe you’re -getting yourself upset without good reason.” - -“No, it’s true, Mistress. Jesus and those of his immediate company, -along with his mother and certain other relatives, have been staying in -the Bethany neighborhood during the festival period,” Tullia revealed. -“Jesus himself lodged at the home of Lazarus and his sisters. But -yesterday afternoon the Master and the twelve men of his band went into -Jerusalem. That’s the last time Mary of Magdala saw him.” Her face was a -mask of pain and apprehension. “Then, early this morning, we were -awakened by several of his band who had come running back to Bethany in -great panic to report what had befallen him. All of them forsook him in -the garden when the soldiers appeared; even Simon, after he had slashed -out with his sword at one of the guardsmen, turned on his heel and ran, -too, they said.” - -“But where did the soldiers take him?” Claudia asked. “And why have you -come to me?” - -“They said there was talk that he was being taken before the High Priest -or else old Annas, Mistress. And we’re afraid that he may suffer a -terrible fate if he falls into the hands of the Temple priests. They’re -determined to kill him, Mistress.” She paused, eyes tearful. “I knew no -one else to whom I could turn for help, no one but you. I thought that -you might speak to the Procurator and he might rescue the Galilean -before they have him killed.” - -“But don’t you know that they have no authority to execute the death -sentence until the Procurator has given approval?” - -“Yes, but they’re so inflamed against him, Mistress, that they might -risk it. But if you could send a message to the Procurator....” - -“He was probably up late into the night. To awaken him now with a -message might offend him, and that would be doing the Galilean more harm -than good. But Pilate usually returns to the palace before beginning his -morning duties; as soon as he does, I’ll lay before him this matter of -the Galilean’s arrest. Certainly no harm can come to him before Pilate -has had an opportunity to sit in judgment on him.” - - - - - 44 - - -This Passover season there would be only three burdened crosses on top -of the desolate Hill of the Skull, but they would be enough. The ugly -spectacle would provide a frightful ending to the Jews’ annual great -festival. - -In other times in Palestine, Centurion Cornelius had been told, Rome had -moved swiftly—and with far more terrifying effectiveness—to dramatize -the utter futility of any province’s attempt to contend against the -mighty conqueror. In Galilee they still talked, though even now in -carefully guarded conversations, of that dreadful day at Sepphoris -hardly more than twenty years ago when the Roman general Varus had -crushed a rebellion and crucified two thousand Jewish insurrectionists. - -Perhaps Pontius Pilate, who a week ago had sent him chasing the rebels -of the now leaderless Bar Abbas band, had tired of awaiting the -centurion’s return with more captives for the crosses; perhaps he had -already ordered to slow and agonizing deaths the revolutionaries’ leader -and the two followers captured with him. It might be that even now -countless pilgrims up for the Passover, drawn by a morbid fascination, -were gawking at the scourged, torn, and broken, unimaginably desecrated -bodies of the captured robber-Zealots. But Cornelius would provide no -additional victims for those crosses on the Hill of the Skull. - -“And I’m glad,” he said aloud. - -“What, Centurion? Glad?” Decius, riding beside him, had heard. - -“I was just thinking aloud about this business of crucifying slaves and -depraved criminals. I was glad those four revolutionaries we cornered in -the Ephraim hills chose to fight to their deaths rather than surrender. -It’s better not having to take anybody back to Jerusalem to be nailed up -on a cross.” - -“It’s not one of the most pleasant assignments a soldier gets, being on -a crucifixion detail,” Decius agreed. “I’ve been on three, and I’ll -never forget those poor devils, the first one especially, maybe just -because he was my first. He was a boy in Germania, hardly sixteen, but a -sturdy, strong fellow. I can still see him, Centurion. He was fair and -his hair was the color of ripened grain, and his eyes were as blue as -the sky. He had killed one of our soldiers, they said.” - -“Probably after our soldier had killed the boy’s parents and raped his -sister.” - -“I can’t say as to that; you could be right, Centurion. But our -commander ordered him to the cross, and I was put on the detail. We took -that boy and tied him to the low stake and scourged him until he was a -bloody pulp, Centurion. I can still see those bone-tipped whips slashing -that white skin and flicking off bits of flesh, and one of them got him -in the eye and knocked the ball out of the socket; it was hanging down -when we nailed him up.” Decius shook his head ruefully. “By the gods, -Centurion, do you know that boy even then fought us and cursed us as -long as he had a hand or foot loose, and when we got all four spiked -down he tried to butt us with his head. He was a strong one, that -fellow; I remember he didn’t die until well along in the second day, and -then he was spitting at us and cursing us almost to his last breath.” -Decius stared thoughtfully for a moment at the road unwinding ahead. -“Many times I’ve dreamed about that boy, Centurion, and I can still see -him plainly and hear his screaming and cursing. It’s not a pleasant -dream. I’d rather dream about those yellow-haired women in Germania.” - -Cornelius nodded his head solemnly. “Yet we Romans call ourselves modern -and civilized people.” They rode on in silence for a few moments. “Maybe -we did well in being away from Jerusalem most of the week of the feast,” -Cornelius finally commented. “Maybe we escaped being assigned by the -Procurator to a crucifixion detail.” - -“I hope so; I’ve no stomach for serving on one again,” Decius agreed. -“You know, Centurion, I’ve just been thinking that very likely many of -Bar Abbas’ cutthroats are right up there in Jerusalem in that Passover -crowd. It wouldn’t surprise me if some of them should try to rescue -those three Zealots.” - -Cornelius nodded. “It wouldn’t surprise me either. I suspect that most -of them, in fact, doubled back that night and beat us into Jerusalem and -got themselves quickly lost in the surge of Passover pilgrims. And only -the gods know how many other Zealots are swarming all over the city with -their daggers sharpened for our throats.” - -It was almost midday when they moved through the defile between the -boulders where a week before they had been waylaid by the Zealot -chieftain. This time Cornelius sent a scouting party ahead to -reconnoiter. But no marauder was encountered. - -In the level beyond the rocks the century paused to eat and rest. But -not for long. Soon Cornelius gave the order to reassemble in marching -formation. The sun was straight overhead, and the air was warm and -heavy; a stifling stillness presaged a violent storm. “I’d like to get -into Antonia before it breaks,” the centurion observed to Decius, as -they mounted their horses. “Look.” He pointed off toward the southwest -where an immense angry black cloud hovered low. “By mighty Jove, it must -be already dark in Jerusalem.” - - - - - 45 - - -The tall Galilean arose from the steps before the Beautiful Gate and -bending over, caught the hand of the prostrate, frightened woman. -“Neither do I condemn you, my sister,” he said gently, as he helped her -to her feet and she lifted tearful, penitent eyes to him. “Go, and sin -no more.” - -“He is truly a good man, Tullia, a noble man of warm heart, a generous, -forgiving, good man. But a god? No, little one.” They were watching the -woman as she neared the corner of the Chel toward the Fortress of -Antonia. “There are no gods.” - -The woman went out of their sight around the Soreg. They turned to look -again toward the Galilean at the marble steps. - -But the steps had disappeared, and the Beautiful Gate, and beyond it the -Great Altar. Only the man stood there, and his arms were bound behind -him now, and where the Chel had been was the Procurator’s tribunal. -Solemn but unafraid, he faced the judge. At his back the Temple leaders -who a moment ago had dragged the poor woman before him were shouting -execrations upon him and demanding of the Procurator his crucifixion. -“Crucify him!” they were screaming. “Crucify him!” - -And in the magistrate’s chair ... by the Great Mother, there was Pontius -Pilate! - -Pilate, his round face livid with anger, was remonstrating with the -priests. “But shall I crucify your King? Shall I crucify the King of the -Jews?” - -Crucify Jesus of Galilee? - -“No, Pilate! No! No!” She was running toward the Procurator to stand -beside the Galilean. “No, my husband, have nothing to do with this good -man!” - -_... But Pilate does not see me or hear me. Nor does the Galilean. Am I -a disembodied spirit? But there are no spirits. Oh, Tullia. But Tullia -neither hears nor sees me...._ - -“Then take him yourselves and crucify him. His death be your -responsibility.” Pilate was speaking again. “I am free of his blood.” - -“No! No! No, Pilate! You are sending an innocent man to his death! You -can never disavow responsibility! Oh, hear me, my husband! Hear me!” - -But the Praetorium and its tribunal, the tall, bound Galilean, the -railing priests and their blood-hungry supporters were suddenly -vanished. - -The great throne room of the Imperial Palace in Rome was strangely -darkened. She could hear the voice of the Emperor, but she could hardly -distinguish his features. Was he her stepfather Tiberius, incredibly old -now, or a younger Emperor? The voice was somewhat strange, too. “You -have failed miserably,” the voice was saying. “You have been rash and -stubbornly determined to govern in accordance with your own whims, you -have not only permitted, but you have, through your intemperate -governing, created much turmoil and insurrection within your province; -in short, your rule has been a travesty of Roman administration.” The -voice paused. “But I shall not order you executed, as you deserve. -Instead, I decree that you be banished, forthwith and forever....” - -The voice had faded out as the light came up, and she saw standing with -bowed head, old and bent and his once round face thinned and haggard and -hopeless, Pontius Pilate. - -“No! No! If you had only listened....” - -But no one heard her, and the great chamber was dark, and not a sound -came to her out of the stillness. - -“Oh, by the Great Mother! By all the gods, great and small. Oh, -Galilean!” - -Now as she stood immobile and weightless in the blackness and silence, -she began to sense a luminosity thinning the darkness below, and looking -down she saw a great way off a point of light that spread and lifted and -came up in ever widening circles to illuminate the heights about her. -For she was standing on the summit of a great mountain, higher even than -the sun-baked granite bluffs on which Machaerus sat above the Dead Sea, -and far below she could discern the imprisoned, restless waters of a -mountain-rimmed small lake. - -Then, as she raised her eyes from the waters and looked across toward an -opposite peak, she saw him. He stood, bent and shrunken and old with the -weight of centuries, on a jagged thrust of rock that came out from the -mountain to overhang the agitated surface of the lake. He was looking -down at the waters; the light was reflected from a head completely bald, -and it played on cheek bones guarding cheeks long sunken, so that his -head even in life appeared to have dried away to a skull, and only long -dewlaps hanging down showed signs of animation. - -“No! No! It cannot be!” - -But she knew it was, though Pontius Pilate had shriveled into a pitiful -husk of the vain and pompous Procurator he had been. - -In the same moment she heard voices, and looking around, she saw people -on the slopes of the mountain, coming up, pushing outward, swelling, and -growing until all the mountain was filled with people, and they were of -all races and times and colors and tongues. But strangely enough, she -could understand their words, Roman and Greek and Egyptian and the -tongues of the yellow-haired sons of Germania and the dark-haired women -of Gaul, and even the babblings of the barbarians in faraway Britannia, -and the curious utterances of the many unborn strange peoples of places -beyond the as yet uncharted seas. And each in his own way was saying -what all the others were saying. - -The man on the precipice appeared not to see or hear the people; he -seemed preoccupied, fearful, oblivious of everything about him, and -struggling with the burden of some monstrous inner distress. He raised -his hands and held them before his face, and then it was that she saw -they were red to the wrists with the color of blood freshly spilled; he -rubbed them together, as though struggling fiercely to scrub the blood -away; he lowered them as if to dip them in a basin, then lifted them -again to study them, his bloodless face, in contrast to the hands, a -shade of ashen horror. - -But the frenzied washing had done no good; the hands shone fiery red. -Despairing, Pilate dropped them to his sides and stepped to the very -edge of the yawning gulf. “I didn’t know!” he cried. “By all the gods, I -didn’t know.” He raised his cavernous face and with eyes wide looked -into the void. “O God of the Jews”—his shrunken head swayed on the -wrinkled neck—“had I but known. Had I but known....” His words whispered -into silence, and he closed his eyes. - -“Don’t! No! No!” she screamed. “No, don’t!” - -She forced herself to look down. - -Pilate’s lean frame was dropping, slowly turning and twisting, toward -the angry waters; his bony arms and legs were thrust out stiffly from -the shroud of his too large toga, which streamed above the plummeting -body, flapping furiously in the wind. Rigid with horror, staring into -the abyss, she saw the body strike, heard the sickening blob, and -watched it gradually disappear. - -But the waters would not grant oblivion. Angrily they flung the broken, -thin body back to the surface, and to Claudia, watching in frozen -fascination, it seemed to be twisting and eddying in continuous -agitation above the seething waters. Looking more closely, her eyes -rooted to the scene in morbid horror, she saw white arms thrust upward -and hands still reddened, cleansed not one tint by their plunge into the -watery depths. Now suddenly the hands seemed detached from the -stiffening arms, and alive; like wounded rodents seeking haven in a dark -fissure among the rocks, they were feeling their way along the ascending -stony slope toward her, and in that dreadful instant there lifted to her -also the babble of countless voices in many tongues blending once again -into a swelling chorus. The light breaking slowly above the mountain -showed the plain below and the steep rises teeming with a multitude -drawn from all races and nations. - -On the faces of some she read swift anger and deep hate, and their fists -were lifted skyward and their voices raised in execrations; others -revealed only indifference, and their words were but the prattled -monotony of chanted creed; but here and there on the level and along the -slopes she saw those whose words fitted without disharmony into the -growing chorus but whose faces as they uttered them revealed sorrow, -deep pity, and a forgiving spirit. - -She closed her eyes against the vision of the myriad chanting faces, but -she heard their voices and she understood their many tongues ... -“Crucified by Pontius Pilate ... Crucified ... suffered under Pontius -Pilate ... suffered ... suffered ... Pontius Pilate....” - -“No! No!” She opened her eyes to see the mountain cleared of the people, -the vision gone, the voices silenced. But there on the ledge at her -feet, rubbing one against the other, endlessly, eternally, fruitlessly -seeking to be cleansed, were the two gory, dismembered hands. - -“No! Back! Back! Go back!” She whirled about to rid herself of the -frightening apparition, and burying her face, eyes shut, against her -crossed arms, she leaned down upon the cool hardness of the boulder -beside her. “No! No!” she sobbed. “Get back! Go! Please go!” Would those -hands, the horrible thought came suddenly to her, come closer? Would -they attempt to exact vengeance upon her? Might they even now be -creeping upon her to fasten cold, bloody fingers about her neck, to -choke the life...? - -“Get back! No! No!” she screamed, as she freed an arm to beat frantic -fist against the stone. “Don’t touch me! Tullia! Longinus! Oh, -Longinus....” - -“Claudia! By great Jove!” The centurion, sitting up fully awake, shook -her hard. “Claudia! Wake up, woman! Wake up! Come out of it! What on -earth....” - -She opened her eyes. “Longinus! Oh, by all the gods, it was terrible, -terrible!” Nor was the terror completely dispelled; in her eyes, wide, -staring, her fear still spoke. Her shoulders shook in an involuntary -shudder. - -He pulled her up into a sitting position and grasped her hand. “But it -was only a nightmare, Claudia. You’re all right. You were just -dreaming.” She blinked and ventured a thin smile. “You were screaming -like a wild woman and beating the bed with your fist.” His excited -concern gave way to a grin. “It must have been a bloodcurdling dream.” - -“Oh, Longinus”—she clenched her eyelids tightly against the light -streaming in through the window—“it was the most horrible dream I ever -had, the most frightful thing anyone could imagine. I dreamed ... oh, -it’s too horribly near; I can’t tell you now.” Still shaking, she turned -to snuggle within the haven of his arms. “Bona Dea....” - -A sudden light knocking on the door interrupted her. Tullia entered to -ask softly if anything was wrong. - -“It was only a nightmare, little one,” Claudia answered, leaning back on -her pillow. “It was so vivid, so frightening. But I’m all right now. -I’ll call you when I need you.” - -“Was it about what I told you, Mistress, the Galilean?” Her question and -tone of voice betrayed Tullia’s deep concern. - -“Yes ... about him and Pilate; horrible, horrible. I....” - -“Oh, Mistress, could it have been a message to you, a vision sent...?” - -“From your Jewish Yahweh, perhaps?” Claudia affected an uneasy laugh. -“No, it was a dream, little one, that’s all. Get back to your bed; you -must still be weary.” - -Claudia saw Longinus’ look of puzzlement. “Tullia returned late in the -night from Bethany and reported that the High Priest had schemed the -arrest of the rabbi of Galilee. She was afraid he might prevail on -Pilate this morning to agree to the crucifixion of the Galilean.” - -“Crucifixion? By all the gods, on what charge?” - -“That he seeks to overthrow Rome.” - -“The Galilean? But he’s no revolutionary. Surely Pilate knows that.” - -“Yes, surely he must.” She frowned. “But you know how Pilate fears the -High Priest and his Temple crowd, how he’s always afraid they’ll send -reports to Sejanus.” - -“And you dreamed that he had sent the Galilean to the cross?” - -“Yes. It was all confused, all horrible.” She sat up precipitately and -looked toward the window. “Bona Dea, it must be late. And Pilate begins -his trials soon after daybreak. Mother Ceres, I do wonder....” She -sprang from the bed and drew on her robe. “Tullia!” she called. “Fetch -me a wax tablet and stylus! Hurry, little one! I must send Pilate a -message.” - - - - - 46 - - -The sun was lifting above the Mount of Olives when Pilate’s orderly -awakened him from heavy sleep. “Sir, the High Priest Caiaphas and others -of the Temple leadership,” he said apologetically, “insisted that I -inform you that they have arrived with the prisoner about whom he spoke -with you last night. They said that they were most anxious for you to -proceed at once to dispose of the case.” - -The Procurator sat up in bed and blinked his heavy-lidded eyes. -“Insolent Jew!” he muttered. “He would not only tell the Procurator what -to do, but when to do it! By the great Jove, I may surprise him!” He -threw back the covering and rose ponderously to his feet. “Go tell the -High Priest to have his witnesses ready. I shall be there shortly.” - -The great Fortress of Antonia, Rome’s bastion in the Jerusalem region, -consisted actually of four straight-walled, high buildings joined -together by corner towers to compose an impregnable stone structure some -fifty by one hundred paces on the outside walls. The space within the -inside four walls had been paved with great stone slabs to form a -tremendous courtyard reached by huge gateways, one on each of the -edifice’s four sides. Massive gates guarded the fortress against sudden -attack; when opened, they admitted a flow of nondescript traffic into -the courtyard. - -Along the southern side of the fortress there was another paved court -from which a wide flight of stone steps led up to a terrace; the -terrace, in turn, led into the interior courtyard. In a high-ceilinged -chamber on the ground floor of this structure, Pontius Pilate had set up -his Praetorium. A Roman praetorium, or trial place of a praetor, -consisted of a semicircular dais on which the curule, or magistrate’s -chair, had been placed. - -In the rear of this chamber was a small doorway, and it was through this -doorway that Pilate, shortly after the orderly had reported to High -Priest Caiaphas, came into the Praetorium. - -The Procurator strode straight to the dais, mounted its several steps, -and sat down on the curule. Frowning, he glanced toward the tall, -manacled prisoner. Flanking the man on both sides were several guards, -all Roman soldiers, who had been assigned to the Temple detail. Though a -throng had already assembled in the court beyond the gateway, the -Procurator could see from where he sat on the tribunal that not a Jew -had followed the prisoner inside the vaulted chamber. “What charge is -brought against this man?” Pilate snapped. “And where are his accusers?” - -The captain of the guard saluted. “High Priest Caiaphas commanded me, -Excellency, to bring the prisoner before you with instructions that he -has been tried before the Jewish Sanhedrin and found guilty of crimes -punishable by death. He said you, O Excellency, were to confirm the -verdict of the Jewish court and order its sentence put into execution.” - -Anger suffused the Procurator’s round, usually bland face. “And why -hasn’t the High Priest come himself to bear witness to the Sanhedrin’s -action? Why has this man no accusers confronting him?” - -The captain was plainly ill at ease. He shifted his weight from one foot -to the other, started to speak, then swallowed. “The Jews, O Excellency, -will not enter the Praetorium for fear that to do so will be a -profanation, that it will render them unfit to eat of their Passover -evening meal,” he finally revealed. “They will come no nearer than the -steps”—he pointed—“out there.” - -Pilate, as the captain had expected, was furious. “Profanation! -Profanation! All I hear in this rebellious, proud province is -profanation! Hah! They would profane themselves by entering a Roman hall -of justice!” His already flushed cheeks were purpling. He stood up -quickly, strode down the steps of the tribunal, and stalked forward to -the stairway; from there he could survey the mass of excited, chattering -Jews, who quieted perceptibly on seeing him emerge from the Praetorium. - -“The prisoner,” he said, motioning with his head toward the chamber from -which he had just come, “what charge do you bring against him? And where -are his accusers?” - -The multitude was silent. Eyes turned toward a group near the foot of -the steps; in the center of the knot stood the High Priest. He advanced -a pace and bowed to the Procurator. “O Excellency, this man has been -tried by our Sanhedrin and found guilty of grievous crimes. If he had -not been found to be a criminal of desperate wickedness, then we would -not have brought him before the Procurator to be sentenced.” - -The bold insolence of the High Priest’s reply did not escape Pilate. “If -you have tried him then and found him guilty, why don’t you also take -him and execute upon him your sentence?” - -Caiaphas stood silent for a moment. “But the Procurator must know, O -Excellency,” he replied at length, a humorless smile lifting the corners -of his mouth, “that under the dominion of Rome the Sanhedrin has not the -authority, however heinous the criminal’s deeds may have been, to -execute upon him the sentence of death. Therefore, O sir, we petition -the Procurator to order executed upon this vicious criminal the sentence -of death which the Sanhedrin has found him so fully to deserve.” - -But Pilate was obdurate. “You would ask a Roman magistrate to find a man -guilty and send him to the cross, even though no accusation had been -made against him and no witnesses had confronted him,” he declared. -“Don’t you know that were I to do so I would violate every principle of -Roman justice?” He jabbed a pudgy forefinger toward Caiaphas. “Would -you, O High Priest, ask the Procurator thus to violate his oath as -Rome’s regent in Judaea?” - -The Procurator, however, had failed to gauge the High Priest’s cunning. -“Indeed, O Excellency, of course I would not seek to lead the Procurator -into violating his oath to uphold Roman justice.” He smiled and bowed, -mockingly. “Nor would I stand silent and unprotesting while the -Procurator released a clever though iniquitous criminal who seeks not -only the demoralization of Israel’s religion and the perversion of her -people but also the overthrow of Rome in this province and the -establishment of himself as King of Israel.” - -The High Priest’s answer was not only a skilful parry of the -Procurator’s question but it was, moreover, a well-aimed thrust of his -own most effective weapon. Caiaphas knew that Pilate lived always in -mortal fear of being reported to Rome; he knew that the Procurator would -not dare to ignore any situation in Judaea, or even the hint of it, that -might be fostering incipient revolt against Roman rule. - -But Pilate maintained his composure; he would not yield obsequiously to -this hateful symbol of Jewry’s stubborn pride of race and nationality -and her cold scorn of everything Roman. He studied the group for whom -the High Priest professed to be speaking; it was a nondescript -assemblage, Temple hirelings, a knot of Pharisees, and surrounding the -High Priest himself, his own Sadducean coterie; the others were, for the -most part, sunburnt fellows who might well be, the thought came to him -suddenly, Galilean and Judaean revolutionaries come in for the Passover -feast from their mountain and Wilderness strongholds. Scowling, Pilate -confronted the cynically smiling Caiaphas. “You say this man is guilty -of heinous crimes, you declare he would set himself up as King of -Judaea, but, O High Priest, you have made before me no accusation, you -have brought no witnesses to testify against him.” He turned to point -with a sweep of his arm toward the Galilean, standing calmly beside his -guards. “There stands the prisoner before the tribunal. I ask you again, -O High Priest, what charges do you bring against him? Where are his -accusers?” - -Caiaphas realized that the Procurator was refusing to admit what he had -assumed, at last night’s meeting, had been a tacit agreement, that a -retrial of the prisoner would be unnecessary; perhaps he was fearful -that Rome would disapprove such a disposition of the case. At any rate, -reasoned the High Priest, further verbal sparring would mean delay in -sending the upstart Galilean to the cross, and he wished this Jesus dead -and taken down before the beginning at sunset of the sacred Sabbath. -Too, the longer they delayed, the more likely it was that other -hot-blooded Galileans would get noise of the trial and come storming to -their leader’s support; they might even succeed in effecting the -fellow’s release. He would not, therefore, challenge Pilate further. - -“O Excellency”—Caiaphas raised his hand and the rays of the morning sun -flashed in the gems of his rings—“we charge that this fellow not only -sought to lead astray the people from the true worship of our God of -Israel, but that he did also forbid them to pay tribute to Caesar, and -that he did declare that he himself was rightful King of Israel and -would so establish himself!” - -Pilate would give no consideration to the first charge, the High Priest -was sure, but, he reasoned, the Procurator could not ignore the other -two. And the soundness of his reasoning was immediately demonstrated. -Pilate turned his back upon Caiaphas and the crowd and returned to the -Praetorium, where he mounted the tribunal and sat down. “Are you”—he -pointed toward the prisoner, who still, though weary, stood erect and -calm—“the King of the Jews?” - -“Do you ask this of your own desire to know”—the trace of a smile -lightened the solemn countenance—“or has someone else said it of me?” - -The Procurator shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Am I a Jew?” he asked -sarcastically. “Your own nation, your High Priest, and the others of the -Temple leadership have delivered you unto me. What have you done?” - -“I am a King,” Jesus replied calmly. “But my Kingdom is not a worldly -kingdom; if it were, then my servants would fight against my being -delivered to these leaders of the Jews. The Kingdom I rule is not of -this world.” - -Pilate’s round face betrayed bafflement. “Then you profess to be a king, -but in another realm, the world of magic, spirits...?” - -“I was born into this world to bear testimony to the truth,” Jesus -answered. “Everyone who is of the truth will understand and acknowledge -my Kingship.” - -Then this man was, as Pilate had suspected all along, in no sense a -revolutionary planning Rome’s overthrow; he was but another of these -eastern mystics, dreaming of the imponderable and intangible. Hadn’t -Herod Antipas beheaded another such fellow because of his slurs against -Herodias, slurs undoubtedly deserved at that? The man before him, Pilate -realized, was simply a religious leader, someone whom, perhaps, Caiaphas -feared as a possible rival, who Caiaphas felt might even supplant him in -the office of High Priest. Of course, reasoned the Procurator, the -fellow might well be a little addled through too long immersion in this -utterly foolish and depraved one-god religion of Israel. “Those who know -the truth,” the fellow had just proclaimed, “will recognize me, -acknowledge me as their king.” Hah! - -“Truth”—Pilate shot forth his finger toward the prisoner—“what is -truth?” He hunched his shoulders and waved his hands, palms up, in a -gesture he had borrowed from the Jews. And without looking toward the -man of whom he had asked the question, he stepped down from the tribunal -and strode out to the High Priest and his restive throng. - -“I have examined the prisoner as to the charges you have brought against -him,” he announced to Caiaphas. “I find nothing criminal in him. He’s a -religious man, a dreamer, but he is no revolutionary.” He was glad to be -rid of the man, though, he confessed to himself; he was happy to wash -his hands of this Jesus, Caiaphas, and the rest of them; if he could -only be freed of all Palestine, if he could never lay eyes again upon -another Jew. “I find no fault in the man; I shall release him.” - -“No! No! O Excellency, no!” Hands were waving wildly in the air. “No! O -Pilate!” The Procurator, scanning the throng, saw the priests fomenting -the agitation into a swell of shouted disapproval of his verdict. Once -more the High Priest stepped forward a pace or two from the front ranks. -“The man is amazingly clever, O Excellency,” he declared, smiling -agreeably, “as he has just demonstrated in thus deceiving the -Procurator. But he is a criminal, and one of the most vicious and -depraved order, O sir. And he is a revolutionary. Beginning in his -native Galilee, he has deceived and perverted the people, and by his -dangerous and evil perverting, his criminal teachings in opposition to -our religion and Rome’s government, he has brought into Peraea and -Judaea....” - -“Beginning, you say, in Galilee? Then this man is a Galilean?” - -“Indeed, O Excellency, and one of the worst of the Galilean -revolutionaries, one of the most dastardly clever,” He smiled -sardonically. “He smites with words rather than a dagger.” - -_... A Galilean, by great Jove! Then send him to Herod Antipas. Let the -Tetrarch dispose of this case. He assumed jurisdiction over that -fanatical Wilderness prophet and ordered him beheaded. Well, this man, -too, is a Galilean. Let Herod stand between this persistent, obstinate -High Priest and old Sejanus. Let the Tetrarch, for once, bear the brunt -of any reports sent back to Rome; this time Sejanus may not overlook -what he considers a mistake of administration in this gods-abandoned -province. If there’s to be a mistake, let the Tetrarch make it...._ - -“Then this man,” he said to the High Priest, “is a subject of the -Tetrarch Herod Antipas. He should be remanded to the Tetrarch for -trial.” - -Pilate returned quickly to the Praetorium. “Captain of the Guards,” he -commanded, “conduct this prisoner to the Tetrarch Herod Antipas. Bear to -the Tetrarch the Procurator’s compliments and say to him that the -Procurator is sending him the King of the Jews”—a sneering smile for an -instant pushed away the scowl on his round face—“a Galilean. It may be -that the Tetrarch will wish to examine the prisoner concerning the -charges that have been brought against him by the High Priest Caiaphas. -At any rate, the prisoner, being from Galilee, is a subject of the -Tetrarch and under his jurisdiction.” He nodded curtly. “Go.” - -Quickly the guards formed about the tall prisoner and led him from the -Praetorium, down the steps into the Court of the Gentiles. Leaving the -Temple area through the Gate Shalleketh, they crossed the bridge above -the Valley of the Tyropoeon and arrived shortly in front of the -sprawling Xystus. A few moments later they paused before the gate giving -admittance to the gloomy and forbidding ancient stone residence of the -Hasmonean kings. - - - - - 47 - - -Perhaps it was the thin slash of early sunlight venturing across her bed -that had aroused her; perhaps she had awakened early because she had -retired early. Pleading weariness and an aching head, Joanna had stayed -away from the Tetrarch’s lavish dinner, the preparation of which she had -directed. She had felt certain that the banquet, safely hidden within -the old palace’s thick walls from the prying, sanctimonious eyes of the -priests, would turn into a drunken debauch, and the Feast of the -Passover, she held strongly, was no occasion for such frivolity. - -The drafty old palace and the grounds about it were quiet. With the -exception of the servants, she surmised, there was likely to be no one -astir in the Tetrarch’s household, particularly Herod Antipas himself. -No doubt he would arise late, in time to bathe and dress for his -ceremonious partaking of the Passover meal. - -Joanna, who had come up from Tiberias with her husband Chuza and others -of the Tetrarch’s staff, lay still and listened to the small sounds of -early morning in old Jerusalem: birds twittering on the sill of her open -window, cattle lowing in the stalls at the Temple, the rising hum of the -densely packed city’s coming alive. - -So, lying quiet and keenly awake now, she heard in the court below her -window a babble of men’s voices and the uncadenced slap and shuffle of -sandaled feet on paving stones. Quickly she slipped from the bed and -crossed her chamber. Peering out from behind the draperies, she saw, -hardly twenty paces from the palace wall, a motley throng that numbered -several Temple priests resplendently robed, with their luxuriant beards -fastidiously plaited and oiled. One of the elegant ones, she was -surprised to discover, was the High Priest Joseph Caiaphas himself. But -why, she wondered, would the High Priest and his Temple aristocracy be -coming with such a nondescript mob as this into the palace courtyard? - -She ventured to open wider the slit between the draperies and the window -frame and lean further forward. Ahead, leading the strangely discordant -procession, was a detachment of Roman soldiers, currently assigned, no -doubt, as guardsmen in the Temple service, since they were in the -vanguard of the High Priest and others of the Temple leadership. - -Then, in the center of the marching soldiers, she saw the manacled -prisoner. Bareheaded, he was half a head taller than his guards; his -reddish-brown hair fell straight to curl at his shoulders. He held his -head erect, but he seemed to be walking with labored stride to keep in -step with his captors; his wide shoulders sloped as though pulled down -by the weight of his long arms and the pinioned hands; his brown -homespun robe, already sweat-stained, hung awry and loosely open at the -neck. - -Though his back was toward her, there was something vaguely familiar -about the tall one, his carriage, manner of walking, the way he arched -his back, weary though he must have been for a long while. Then he -turned his head to look over his shoulder, and she saw the twin-spiked -short beard and the curling earlocks. - -“By the beard of the High Priest!” She had almost screamed it aloud, but -she restrained herself. “The rabbi of Nazareth!” The man who had healed -her son of the deadly fever, who had also cured the Centurion Cornelius’ -Lucian, the good teacher whom many believed—and she, too!—to have in -those fettered hands the veritable healing power of God Himself. - -The procession stopped. A soldier stepped to the entrance way and spoke -to the sentry on duty there. Now the sentry was talking with a -manservant who had appeared at the portal. In another instant the -servant disappeared inside. - -“It’s the High Priest’s doing!” she said aloud. “He’s bringing the -Nazarene here for the Tetrarch to condemn; he’s determined to destroy -Jesus.” - -She stepped back from the window and began quickly to dress. As she -pulled on her clothes she tried desperately to evolve some plan that -might thwart the High Priest’s evil scheme. Certainly Antipas, -incredibly fearful of displeasing Caiaphas and his fellows in the Temple -leadership, would be disposed to yield to the High Priest’s demands, -even to beheading the Galilean. Had he not beheaded the Wilderness -prophet? Had he not yielded then, against his better judgment, to -Herodias? Herod would be more inclined to give way to Caiaphas than -would the Procurator Pontius Pilate. But if Herodias would intervene.... - -The Tetrarchess indeed! Hurriedly Joanna finished dressing and rushed -downstairs as quickly as she could without exciting undue attention, to -find the palace servant with whom the sentry a moment ago had spoken. - -“They have brought the Galilean wonder worker to the Tetrarch for -trial,” the servant revealed. “The High Priest is charging him with many -crimes, the soldier said. They took him first before the Procurator, but -when Pilate discovered he was a Galilean, he ordered him delivered here -for trial before Tetrarch Herod. Now they are in the judgment hall -awaiting the Tetrarch’s arrival.” He smiled glumly. “Herod, I suppose, -was fit to burst at being awakened so early.” - -Next, Joanna went in search of Herodias. She found her in her apartment; -the Tetrarchess had finished her bath and now Neaera was doing her hair. -In a few words Joanna revealed that Pilate had just sent the Galilean -teacher and miracle worker to the Tetrarch for trial and that the High -Priest Caiaphas and other Sadducean leaders were awaiting Herod’s -arrival in the judgment hall; they planned to present charges that Jesus -was guilty of crimes deserving of death. - -Herodias listened patiently. When Joanna finished her recital, the -Tetrarchess shrugged. “But what do you wish me to do? How does this -Galilean’s fate concern me? Just because he beguiled you and Chuza into -believing that he drove out the fever and healed your son....” She broke -off with a patronizing smile. - -“He concerns you, Tetrarchess, in that the Tetrarch is greatly -concerned, though he may not suspect it. The High Priest schemed this -man’s arrest and carried him before the Procurator, who rules in Judaea. -But Pilate, realizing that whatever judgment he might render, whether to -release the prisoner or execute him, would cause a great outcry in the -province and be reported to the rulers in Rome, has cleverly sought to -evade his responsibility and put it upon the Tetrarch. Thus, the -Tetrarch in trying the Galilean, will be the one to be judged both in -Israel and in Rome.” - -The smile on the face of the crafty Herodias had vanished, and her -forehead wrinkled in sudden concern. “But the man is a Galilean, and -Pilate in sending him before Antipas recognizes the Tetrarch’s authority -and compliments him....” - -“He professes to do that, but what he’s really doing is shifting the -burden onto the Tetrarch. And when this commotion develops into a great -storm in Rome, then the Tetrarch, too late, I’m afraid, will know he’s -been tricked. Let him free this prisoner, and the High Priest will -inform the Emperor that the Tetrarch has released someone who was -plotting to overthrow Rome. On the other hand, let him execute the -Galilean and the report will go by fastest ship to Rome that another -prophet in the Wilderness....” - -“No! No! Joanna, never mention that man!” Herodias cried out. But -quickly she recovered her poise and smiled weakly. “You see, mere -mention of that Wilderness fellow still frightens Antipas. When he began -to get reports of this Nazarene’s appearance before throngs in Galilee -and other places, Antipas was obsessed with the idea that this one was -the Wilderness preacher returned to life. Lately he seems to have -returned to his senses, but, as you know, he’s a very superstitious -person. And frankly, Joanna, I myself don’t like to be reminded of the -Wilderness prophet.” She relaxed somewhat. “You’re right about Pilate, I -daresay. He probably does wish to evade trying the Galilean. Claudia, -though, would want him to get himself involved in further difficulty; -that would make it easier for her and Longinus.” She turned to speak to -her maid. “Hurry, Neaera,” she ordered, “I’ve got to get out of here -quickly. We can finish all this later. I must see the Tetrarch before he -goes.” Then she spoke again to the wife of Herod’s steward. “Thank you, -Joanna; you have done Antipas and me a great service.” - - - - - 48 - - -As the Temple guardsmen withdrew with their prisoner from the -Praetorium, Pilate beckoned to one of the Antonia soldiers. - -“I wish to proceed with the trials of the revolutionaries captured last -week by Centurion Cornelius,” he announced. “If the centurion has -returned with any other captives, have them brought in too.” - -“He has not returned, sir,” the soldier said. - -“Then we shall try the three we have.” - -Bar Abbas and his two henchmen had already been brought up from their -cells deep under Antonia; the witnesses who would testify against them, -including several soldiers from Cornelius’ century, were waiting in an -anteroom. In the group of witnesses were several Temple priests, -elegantly robed, their beards elaborately braided and oiled, their plump -fingers weighted with rings. - -The prisoners, shackled at wrists and ankles, were led shuffling into -the chamber to stand before the tribunal. After a week in the blackness -of the dungeon, their eyes were unaccustomed to light; they stood -blinking in the growing brightness of the chamber. Then from an anteroom -on the other side of the courtroom another soldier escorted the -witnesses to a position facing Pilate’s curule several paces across from -the three bound men. - -Quickly the prisoners were identified: one Bar Abbas, long sought -chieftain of a Zealot band preying upon travelers in various sections of -the province, particularly the boulder-bordered steep ascent of the -Jericho road, and two others of his fellow revolutionaries, one Dysmas -and one Gesmas, all three of Galilee. - -“With what crimes are these men charged?” the Procurator asked. He made -no reference to their being Galileans, nor did he question his -jurisdiction over them, though he had just sent another Galilean to the -Tetrarch. - -The accusations were made. As members of a notoriously desperate Zealot -gang of revolutionaries, they had pillaged caravans, waylaid tax -collectors and robbed them of their revenues, descended from the hills -upon merchants’ pack trains and looted them, even assailed detachments -of Roman soldiers and slain some. Then the witnesses confronted them. -One of the priests, accompanied by fellow priests of the Temple, was -returning from Caesarea when the party was set upon and robbed. He -identified the three as among his assailants; he declared he was -positive the shackled men standing there were the culprits. Then another -lavishly robed priest was called upon to give testimony. - -“O Excellency,” he began, “it was on the Jericho road that these men, -this Bar Abbas and these other two”—he pointed to each in turn—“came -down from the rocks and seized me. I was bearing a large pouch of gold -and silver, funds of the Temple I was taking to be put in its coffers, -when this big fellow here....” - -“He was coming _from_ the Temple!” screamed Bar Abbas, interrupting the -testimony, as he lifted his pinioned hands and shook them so that the -chains rattled loudly. “He had stolen the money from its coffers! But we -took it from him and gave it to feed the poor and those dispossessed by -the traitorous publicans!” - -“Silence!” commanded Pilate. “You will have your turn to speak.” - -Next, two soldiers, one after the other, who had been coming to -Jerusalem the past week as members of the century commanded by Centurion -Cornelius, testified that the three were among the marauders who had -swept down from the rocks beside the Jericho road to capture for a few -minutes the detachment that was escorting Tetrarch Herod Antipas and his -wife and to assail the near-by flanking columns put out by the -centurion. In this assault, the witnesses testified, several of the -Roman soldiers had been killed. - -The three offered no evidence in rebuttal. The one called Dysmas, who -looked both grave and resigned, seemed to be studying the pattern of the -mosaic at his feet; Gesmas glared sullenly at the smirking priests who -had witnessed against him; and Bar Abbas stood, as wide-legged as his -chains would permit, with his sharp black eyes fixed in defiance on the -round face of his judge and his lips above the tangle of his beard -twisted in a sneer. - -“I adjudge you guilty,” Pilate said, looking in turn toward each of the -prisoners. He called to one of the soldiers on courtroom duty. “Go tell -the commander to send me three centurions.” - -When after a short wait the soldier returned with the three officers and -they had reported to the Procurator, Pilate faced the convicted -revolutionaries. “I sentence each of you to the lash and the cross. And -may all such dastardly wicked enemies of Rome so perish!” He turned -again to the tribunal attendant. “Prepare a titulus for each,” he -commanded, “and write thus: robber-assassin-revolutionary.” He leaned -forward. “Take them now into the courtyard and scourge them, and then -conduct them outside the walls to the Hill of the Skull, and crucify -them. Each of you centurions will choose a quaternion to assist, and -each will have charge of the scourging and execution of one of the -prisoners. And do not dally. I wish them on the crosses quickly, so that -the Passover crowds may see what becomes of those who plot revolution -against Rome. It should have a salutary effect.” He waved his arm -imperiously. “Take them away!” - - - - - 49 - - -Hardly had the Procurator climbed the stairs to his apartment and -ordered his long delayed breakfast to be brought in, when a soldier -assigned to the Praetorium reported to him. - -“Sir, the Galilean whom you sent to the Tetrarch Herod has been returned -to you,” he announced. “The High Priest and his Temple associates, -together with a throng of excited Jews, are down there awaiting your -return to the Praetorium to resume trial of the prisoner.” - -“By great Jove!” The Procurator’s scowl was heavy. Why had Herod sent -him back? Surely the bumbling Tetrarch hadn’t been clever enough to -comprehend Pilate’s scheme to evade responsibility. - -He did not question the soldier, however, and a few moments later he -mounted the tribunal again and sat down upon the curule. From the -pavement before the Praetorium the captain of the Temple guards and his -detachment, forming a square about the Galilean, advanced to the -tribunal. Jesus, Pilate saw, was wearing a bedraggled, purple-bordered -robe. One of the soldiers was carrying the folded brown homespun robe -which the prisoner had been wearing before. - -Pilate, color mounting, pointed to Jesus and glared at the officer. -“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “Why is he wearing this -emblem of authority? Speak up! Who is responsible for this mockery?” - -“Not I, sir,” the captain hastened to declare. “The Tetrarch ordered one -of his old robes to be placed upon the prisoner; he said he appreciated -the Procurator’s raillery in calling the man the King of the Jews, and -he ordered him arrayed in the purple in order to further your joking, -sir.” - -“Didn’t he examine the prisoner?” - -“He questioned him, sir, and sought to have him work some tricks of -magic, but the prisoner made no reply.” - -Once again Pilate descended from the tribunal and went out upon the -pavement before the Praetorium. At first sight of him the mob began to -raise a clamor. “Bar Abbas!” a man toward the rear of the multitude -screamed. “Bar Abbas! Give us Bar Abbas!” Others joined in the uproar. -Pilate seemed not to understand them. “They want to see the -revolutionaries’ leader,” he said to the soldier who had accompanied -him. “They will see him as the condemned men start for the Hill of the -Skull. But not until I have disposed of this Galilean. There is already -too much commotion. Go into the courtyard, and tell the centurions not -to start to the execution ground until I give the order.” He turned back -to face Caiaphas and the priests and behind them the motley crowd. “You -brought me this man and charged that he was a revolutionary, that he -sought to overthrow the rule of Rome in this province, but I found no -guilt in him, and when I sent him to the Tetrarch Herod, ruler of -Galilee, he, too, found nothing worthy of death. So I shall discharge -him. And now, disperse and let us have no more of this tumult.” - -“No! No! O Procurator, crucify him! Bar Abbas! Bar Abbas!” - -“Crucify the King of the Jews!” Pilate looked toward the High Priest as -he said it, as though he were jesting, but he could not effectively -conceal the scorn in his voice and on his face. “I must let him go -free!” - -His words provoked another storm of shouted entreaties and demands. “Bar -Abbas! Bar Abbas! Give us Bar Abbas!” - -“When I have disposed of this Jesus of Galilee, you shall get to see -that revolutionary”—he smiled glumly—“as Bar Abbas goes to the cross.” - -“The Passover release! It’s the long-established custom, O Procurator. -Give us the Passover release!” - -Pilate stared in surprise at the crowd shouting below him. Could it be, -then, as he had first suspected, that this throng hated the Temple -priests and especially Caiaphas and wanted the release of the Galilean? -But he had found Jesus not guilty and technically had already released -him. If, however, he should find him guilty of some minor crime, such as -causing a great disturbance and commotion among the people, for example, -and punish him for that, then he might logically release him as the -Passover recipient of the Procurator’s pardon. At the same time he would -dull considerably any report concerning this case that might find its -way to Rome. - -“I find no serious fault in this Galilean,” he declared, as he held up -his hand to signal for silence, “but because of his indiscretions and -his provocation of tumults and unrest and much bickering among the -people, I shall have him scourged before I release him.” - -He returned to the tribunal and gave the formal order for the scourging -of Jesus. Then once again he climbed the stone stairway to his apartment -and called for his breakfast. His food was placed on a small table by -the window, for already the morning sun was warm and out beyond the -smoldering Vale of Hinnom dark, thickening clouds had begun to form. But -the Procurator was not permitted to relax calmly over his morning meal. -The din below not only continued, but the shoutings grew increasingly -loud. After awhile, Pilate pushed back his plate and stood up. - -“I’ll abide this no longer!” he shouted to his orderly standing near the -doorway. “The obstinate, cantankerous provincials! They’ll end this -disgraceful tumult, or I’ll have the Antonia garrison on them with their -swords!” He caught up his toga and started once more for the Praetorium. - -“Bring out to the pavement the robber Bar Abbas and the Galilean miracle -worker,” he commanded, when he arrived in his tribunal chamber. - -“Bar Abbas! Bar Abbas! Bring forth Bar Abbas, O Procurator!” the -multitude began to shout, as Pilate appeared on the mosaic in front of -the Praetorium. “The Passover release! Give us Bar Abbas!” The -Procurator, studying the vociferous throng, saw that the cries for the -release of the robber chieftain seemed to be coming from a group of -wild-eyed, fanatical-looking rough fellows bunched behind the High -Priest and his clique. The thought came to him that they might be -Zealots, even some of the escaped members of the Bar Abbas band broken -up a week before by the Centurion Cornelius. But the supporters of the -Galilean mystic, he reasoned, would outnumber these men screaming for -the release of Bar Abbas. - -The multitude calmed perceptibly as the scourged revolutionary appeared -on the pavement before them and then, recovered somewhat from the shock -the man’s sad state had caused, burst into a new clamoring for his -release. Bar Abbas stared stonily ahead, as if indifferent to the -screams and yelling of the people, no doubt still half dazed from the -ordeal from which he had that moment been delivered. Although his coarse -robe had been returned to him after the scourging and was thrown loosely -about his shoulders, the milling crowd saw at once that the -leather-thonged whip had stripped and torn the flesh of his shoulders -and back; already the robe was reddening into a gory, clinging covering -like that which a butcher might have worn to carry on his shoulder a -freshly slaughtered lamb. - -But Jesus, when he was led forth from the courtyard to the pavement -before the Praetorium to stand near the robber chieftain, made an even -more pitiable figure. The purple robe he had been wearing when he was -brought back from Herod’s judgment hall was once again about his sagging -shoulders, and it was soaked with blood. His long hair was matted with -drying blood where it curled above his flayed and bruised shoulders, and -his naked upper arms were crisscrossed with bleeding cuts and great -reddened welts. But more shocking than the lacerations and the bleeding -flesh, the blood-soaked purple robe, the mercilessly flayed, drooping -shoulders burdened beyond human strength to endure, was the evidence he -wore upon his head of a sadism past comprehending. Pressed down hard -against his skull, so that the sharp points in some places actually had -pierced the skin of his forehead and temples, was a circlet hastily -fashioned from a long thin branch torn from a rhamnus thorn. - -Pilate noticed it immediately. “Why the victor’s wreath?” he asked the -soldier guarding the Galilean. - -“It’s not a victor’s wreath,” he answered. “Sir, it’s the royal crown of -the King of the Jews.” He ventured a smile. “The soldiers made it from a -shrub growing near the scourging post and crowned him with it.” - -“Indeed, the crown goes well with the Tetrarch’s purple.” Pilate smiled -humorlessly. Then he held up his hand to command silence. “It must be -well known to you that each year at the Feast of the Passover it is the -custom of the Procurator to release a prisoner. Here before you are the -revolutionary and murderer and robber, one Bar Abbas, who has been -sentenced to the cross, and the prisoner brought by the High Priest, one -Jesus of Galilee”—he paused and looking directly at the group of Temple -priests, smiled appreciatively—“the King of the Jews....” - -“We have no king!” shouted Joseph Caiaphas, and a chorus of angry voices -supported him, “no king except Tiberius. This man is not our king; he is -a blasphemer, an enemy of Israel’s God; he stirs up the people; he -declares himself to be king in Israel; he calls himself the Son of God!” -He paused, as if fearful at having uttered the ineffable name. - -“Crucify him! Crucify him!” The mob renewed its angry demanding. “He -claims to be the Son of God, the blasphemer! Crucify him!” - -But Pilate paid them little heed. Turning his back upon the High Priest -and the clamoring throng on the esplanade below, he withdrew into the -Praetorium. “Bring him inside,” he said, motioning with his head as he -looked back. And then he spoke to the soldier guarding Bar Abbas. “And -remove that one from the sight of the multitude. But presently I shall -call for him again.” - -The Procurator had hardly mounted the tribunal when a soldier entered -the chamber from the courtyard and handed a tablet to one of the -attendants. The two whispered, heads together, for a moment. Then the -attendant strode quickly to the tribunal, saluted, and presented Pilate -the wax tablet. “A message, sir, from the Procurator’s wife,” he -explained. “The messenger reported it was urgent.” - -Hastily Pilate scanned the tablet. He scowled, then beckoned to the man. -“Fetch me the soldier who brought this tablet.” - -In another moment the soldier was standing stiffly before the tribunal. -“Soldier,” Pilate inquired, “did you bring this message from the hand of -the Lady Claudia?” - -“No, sir,” he answered. “It was handed to me in the courtyard over -there.” - -“By whom?” - -“The Centurion Longinus, sir; he had just come, I understood, from the -Palace of the Herods.” - -A quick frown darkened the Procurator’s countenance. “And where is the -Centurion Longinus now?” - -“Sir, I think he went up to his apartment in the fortress.” - -Pilate nodded and waved the man aside; his face was heavy as once again -he read his wife’s message: - - _Hear me, Pilate_: - -_Take no responsibility for that righteous man’s blood, for in the night -I had a frightful dream concerning him._ - -What on earth, he wondered, could Claudia have dreamed about this -Galilean fanatic? And how did she know that the man had been brought -before the Procurator’s tribunal? Yes, and by all the gods, why had the -message come from Longinus, and why, moreover, had Longinus not -delivered it himself? - -Still frowning, Pilate turned once again to question the prisoner -standing calmly before the tribunal, his face streaked with drying sweat -and blood, his robe turned deep crimson from the whip’s fearful wounds, -his matted hair still crowned with the circlet of thorns. “They say you -claim to be the son of their god,” he said. “What do they mean? Tell me, -where _do_ you come from?” - -Jesus appeared lost in introspection. If he heard the Procurator’s -question, he ignored it. An infinite sadness seemed to possess him. - -But Pilate, still scowling, perhaps upset further because of his wife’s -message and the manner in which it had been brought to him, revealed his -impatience. “Will you answer me?” he asked testily. “Don’t you know that -I have the power either to release you or to condemn you?” - -Calmly, looking the Procurator in the eyes and with no tone of rancor, -Jesus replied. “You would have no power over me were it not granted you -from above. Therefore, he who delivered me to you”—he pointed toward the -esplanade where the High Priest and his cohorts awaited—“has a greater -guilt than you.” - -Once again the Procurator stepped down from the tribunal and strode out -to the pavement in front of the Praetorium. “Bring forth the prisoner,” -he commanded. “And have Bar Abbas brought to me, too.” - -“I shall release to you a Passover prisoner,” he announced to the -multitude when the two scourged prisoners stood before him. “Here stand -a robber and assassin”—he pointed toward Bar Abbas—“and”—he smiled -grimly as he waved his hand toward the Galilean—“your King of the Jews. -Which shall I release?” - -“Bar Abbas! Bar Abbas!” the people howled, and Pilate could see the -priests exhorting them to shout their demands. “Release Bar Abbas! Bar -Abbas!” - -“But what shall I do with the King of the Jews?” - -“Crucify him! Crucify him!” they stormed. “Release unto us Bar Abbas!” - -“He is not our king!” shouted Caiaphas. “We have no king but Caesar!” - -Grudgingly, Pilate nodded to the robber chief’s guards. “Release him.” -The Procurator had lost. He had been sure the Galilean’s followers would -outnumber the vociferous Zealots. But Caiaphas had been the better -schemer. - -Quickly the soldiers freed the hulking Bar Abbas, and in another moment -he disappeared with a tumultuously happy group of his supporters, -probably members of his own band, in the mass of people thronging the -Court of the Gentiles. But the High Priest and his hirelings kept their -places on the pavement before the Praetorium. Now the Procurator, -pointing toward the Galilean, spoke to them. - -“What then shall I do with the King of the Jews?” His tone was -sarcastic. “_I_ find no fault in him. I shall release him, just as I -have already released your robber.” - -“No! No! Crucify him! He is not our king! He is a blasphemer who would -destroy us!” - -“Crucify your king?” A cold smile lifted the corners of the Procurator’s -heavy lips. “Crucify the King of the Jews?” - -“We have no king, O Procurator,” Caiaphas declared evenly, when he had -lifted his hands to still the clamor, “no king but Caesar. And if you -are a friend of Caesar, O Excellency, you will rid us of this one who -not only seeks to destroy our religion but also to set himself upon the -restored throne of King David. Should word get to Tiberius or Sejanus in -Rome....” The High Priest shrugged and smiled suggestively. - -Word would certainly reach the capital. And the story would be of the -High Priest’s coloring. The Procurator Pontius Pilate, despite repeated -warning and ample testimony establishing the guilt of the accused, it -would be told, had released a dangerously clever revolutionary intent -upon restoring the ancient kingdom of the Jews in Palestine with himself -as king. - -“But he declares that his kingdom is not of this world,” Pilate tried to -protest. “He’s nothing but a harmless babbler, a religious fanatic whom -too much reasoning has driven mad....” - -“So he would have you think, O Procurator. The man is cunning, amazingly -clever, captivating.” Caiaphas smiled indulgently. “Has he not already -deceived even the wise and discerning Procurator?” - -The High Priest Joseph Caiaphas had won. Already too many reports of the -conduct of the Procurator’s office had gone to Rome; one more might be -sufficient to arouse the wrath of the Prefect Sejanus. Nevertheless, -since the High Priest had forced the verdict, the responsibility would -rest on him. He clapped his hands and when a servant came running, -called for a basin of water. A moment later, as the servant held the -basin before him, the Procurator plunged his hands into the water and -rubbed them together vigorously. “Let the people heed,” he said loudly -and with ostentation, “that I wash my hands of the blood of this man. I -am guiltless. His blood is not upon me.” - -“Indeed, O Procurator”—the High Priest’s smile was scornful, his tone -sneeringly derisive—“let his blood be upon us, yea, and our children!” - -“Then take him, and crucify him.” Pilate glanced toward the prisoner, -standing tall and calm and regal in the blood-drenched discarded purple. -But when their eyes met, Pilate’s shifted in that same instant to the -mosaic at the Galilean’s feet, so that momentarily the judge’s head was -bowed to the prisoner. Then, in a voice that was scarcely more than a -whisper, Pilate spoke to the guard who held the fetter binding Jesus’ -wrists. “Lead him into the courtyard.” - -As they were going out he summoned an attendant. “Fetch a tablet that I -may prepare the titulus.” His eyes fell upon the wax tablet that his -wife had sent him. “Wait,” he said. “This one will suffice. There’s -space enough on it for what I have in mind.” The soldier picked up the -tablet with the attached stylus. “Write this,” Pilate commanded, “and -when you have written it, take the tablet into the courtyard and have -the words inscribed on the headboard in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew.” He -paused, reflecting. “Write what I say: _This is Jesus of Nazareth, the -King of the Jews_.” - -Joseph Caiaphas had heard. “No, O Procurator! Write that he says he is -King of the Jews!” - -Pontius Pilate stared in stony silence at the furious High Priest. “What -I have written,” he said after a moment, “I have written.” He turned to -the soldier. “Go prepare the titulus board.” Then, without a glance -toward the High Priest and his group, he returned to the Praetorium and -mounted the tribunal. Only the few soldiers in attendance remained in -the vaulted great chamber. Pilate sat down upon the curule; his eyes, -unseeing, were fixed on the pattern of the mosaic at the foot of the -tribunal steps. - -_... Great Rome’s vaunted justice. But must not justice yield sometimes -to expediency, the expediency of the greater good for the greater -number? Will not his death end a developing tumult in Palestine that -might have brought even bloodshed and death for many Jews and perhaps -even Roman soldiers? And now no report will go to Sejanus from Joseph -Caiaphas._ - -_... The Galilean. A dreamer, a devotee of the Jewish religion, a -visionary ... a righteous man, Claudia said. “Take no responsibility for -that righteous man’s blood.” Claudia’s dream, bah. Superstition, -astrology maybe, foolishness. Calpurnia had a dream, and Caesar laughed -at her warning. Caesar laughed, and Caesar died._ - -_... But no report will go to Rome of the Procurator’s releasing a -dangerous revolutionary who was planning to establish himself on the -restored throne of ancient Israel. Joseph Caiaphas has been -silenced...._ - -Suddenly a cold, numbing fear clutched Pontius Pilate. “By great Jove!” -But he had not exclaimed aloud. No report would go to Rome from the High -Priest, no fawning spies would tell how the Procurator had freed a -cunning revolutionary, but Claudia had warned him not to judge the -Galilean. Could his wife, by all the gods, be a secret follower of this -mystic? Didn’t many high-placed women of Rome become devotees of this -strange Jewish one-god religion? Could the Emperor’s stepdaughter, by -great Jove, have become, of all persons, interested in religion, in any -religion? Could Claudia really feel strongly about this Nazarene fellow? - -_... And Longinus had fetched her message. Longinus, yes, by all the -gods...._ - -The soldier who had led Jesus forth from the pavement into the courtyard -had returned to the Praetorium. “Sir, the titulus board is complete. -They are ready to proceed with the crucifixions, except....” - -“Then start at once with the three prisoners to the Hill of the Skull.” -He paused. “Except? What were you going to say?” - -“You have assigned no centurion, sir, to have charge of the crucifixion -of this fellow whom you have just condemned. Do you wish Porcius, who -was to have crucified Bar Abbas....” - -“No.” Then, in a flash came an idea. Pilate maintained a sternly -impassive countenance, but inwardly he exulted in the suddenly revealed -manner of solving his dilemma. Now _no one_ would be sending stories to -Rome, for certainly nobody would be foolish enough to reveal to Sejanus -the execution of an innocent Jew if _he himself_ had participated with -the Procurator in that Jew’s crucifixion. “I wish Porcius for another -duty today.” He pointed upward. “Go at once to the apartment of the -Centurion Longinus and inform him that the Procurator assigns him to -take charge of the quaternion and orders him to proceed immediately with -the crucifixion of the Galilean.” - - - - - 50 - - -Beside a cluster of gnarled olive trees along the Bethany road Centurion -Cornelius halted his weary cavalcade. They had attained the summit of -the Mount of Olives. Steady climbing from the Jericho plain had lathered -the laboring horses, and the dust-grimed faces of the men were streaked -with perspiration. Since the passing of midday the heat had grown -increasingly oppressive; now, as they approached Jerusalem in the eerie -half-darkness, it weighed upon them like a heavy blanket. - -The dark cloud over the city that hardly two hours ago they had seen -from the narrow defile between the boulders had grown to envelop them, -and as they came over the rise and looked across toward the walled -density of flat-roofed stone structures, they could scarcely make out -the usually dominating mass of the Temple. Ordinarily on an early -afternoon in April the sun would have been reflected brilliantly in the -gold plates of the Temple’s roof, but today it was barely able to -penetrate the overcast. In the strangely thickening gloom the -resplendent plates had taken on a dull coating of bilious green. Faintly -discernible to the right were the darker masses of the Fortress Antonia -towers upthrust in the cloaking shadows; but westward, beyond Antonia, -the great Palace of the Herods and the other splendid abodes of the -privileged were completely shrouded; Mount Zion and the Ophel shared -equally in oblivion. - -“What is it, Centurion?” Decius shook his head perplexedly. “I’ve been -out here a long time, but I’ve never seen anything like it. This strange -darkness, this stillness, and the peculiar blue-green cast. Centurion, -this isn’t just another storm coming up, another thunderstorm following -excessive heat. It’s got a queer, ghastly look, as if the gods might be -angry ...” - -“The gods, Decius?” - -The soldier laughed uneasily. “I use the term broadly, for want of one -more accurate.” He waved an arm in the direction of the darkened city. -“But it does have a sort of supernatural look, doesn’t it, -Centurion?”—he smiled—“though of course I have little belief in the -supernatural.” He shrugged. “How do you explain it?” - -“It does have a strange, unearthly look,” Cornelius agreed. “But I don’t -believe it’s a manifestation of the gods’ anger, though I’ve never seen -one before like this. Could it be a heavy mass of sand borne in from the -desert? If that’s it, then maybe the sun shining through the -concentration of sand accounts for this strange greenish color.” - -“That’s probably it,” Decius agreed. “But then, where is the wind?” - -“It may be the lull before the wind. This unseasonable heat is bound to -bring on a storm. Look!” He pointed. “The sun.” - -High above the city, beyond its southern wall and past the ever -smoldering refuse heaps in the Vale of Hinnom, the sun rode like a pale -copper disk behind a thinning portion of the veiling cloud. In the same -instant its rays found a rift in the mantle covering the city and shot a -pinpoint of light to bathe in sudden brilliance a small eminence just -beyond and slightly to the right of the Fortress Antonia. - -“By all the gods! Bar Abbas and the two henchmen we captured last week!” - -On the summit of the little hill stood three crosses, and stretched upon -each cross was the body of a man. A staring throng of spectators stood -scattered about below. - -Then suddenly the rift in the covering cloud was healed; darkness -swallowed the burdened crosses. - -“Poor devils,” Cornelius said. “That’s an assignment I’m glad I didn’t -get. Being late returning may have saved me.” He looked up again toward -the lowering sky. “But we’d better be getting on to Antonia. This storm -may break at any moment, and when it does, I don’t want to be in it.” - -Quickly the cavalcade moved down the slope toward the Garden of -Gethsemane and the Brook Kidron beyond. Entering the walled city by Dung -Gate, it went through Ophel and ascended the slope westward to move -along the lower level of Mount Zion and cross the bridge spanning the -Tyropoeon Valley. At the eastern end of the bridge the procession turned -northward and marched along the way paralleling the Temple’s wall to the -entrance gate of the Antonia. - -When Cornelius had dismissed his men, he went up at once to his -apartment in the officers’ quarters on the south side of the fortress. -He had been looking forward eagerly to a refreshing bath and a short nap -before dressing in fresh clothing for the evening meal. But as he was -about to enter his quarters he encountered a centurion coming into the -corridor from the apartment next to his. - -“By Hercules, Cornelius!” - -“Porcius!” He clapped a hand on the other’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you -were quartered here.” - -“I’ve come since you left, Cornelius. I heard you were out pursuing a -gang of those Zealots. Did you overtake any of them?” - -“Yes, and killed several. But we didn’t capture any.” - -“This morning they crucified two of the ones you captured last week.” - -“Three, you mean, don’t you? Bar Abbas and two of his company.” - -“But Pilate released Bar Abbas.” - -“Released him? Bar Abbas?” - -“Yes, released him. It’s amazing, isn’t it? But the mob demanded his -release as the Passover prisoner—you know, don’t you, that the -Procurator each year, in accordance with tradition, releases one -prisoner at Passover time?” - -Cornelius nodded. “But weren’t there three men crucified?” - -“Yes. I was supposed to have had charge of the crucifixion of Bar Abbas. -Pilate had already condemned him to the cross when the demand for his -release was made. So he released him, and I was relieved of a most -unpleasant task.” - -“You were fortunate, Porcius. But if three men were crucified, who was -the third? I didn’t know another revolutionary had been captured.” - -“He was no revolutionary, Cornelius. Pilate knew he wasn’t and wanted to -free him. But the High Priest insisted that the fellow was a -troublemaker who planned to attempt to set himself up as King of Israel. -So, rather than run the risk of having the Temple leaders report him to -Rome as protector of the Emperor’s enemies, Pilate yielded and sent the -fellow to the cross. And luckily for me, he assigned Centurion Longinus -the task of conducting the man’s execution.” - -“Longinus! By all the gods, Porcius, who was the fellow?” - -“A Galilean. A religious fanatic, I judged him to be, but entirely -harmless. His name, if I recall it correctly, was Jesus, I think, one -Jesus from a place in Galilee called Nazareth, they said.” - -“Jesus! Oh, by all the gods, when....” - -“But do you know the man, Centurion?” - -“When did they lead him to the Hill of the Skull?” Cornelius ignored the -centurion’s question. “How long...?” - -“It was in mid-morning. He’s been on the cross for several hours now. -And he was unmercifully scourged before they started with him to the -crucifixion ground.” He stared at his companion’s suddenly ashen face. -“But, Cornelius, why...?” - -“Jesus! Oh, great Jove!” Anger, utter amazement and pain were written in -swift succession on his still sweating, dust-covered face. “O God of -Israel! O his God! O _my_ God, Jesus!” - -Turning, he raced along the corridor toward the steps that a moment ago -he had ascended, stone stairs that went down to the ground-floor open -area just inside the great western entrance to the fortress. - - - - - 51 - - -Cornelius had reached the gate in the north wall when the storm broke -with sudden fury. He darted beneath the flimsy awning of a fish stall to -wait out the blast. - -“Here, let me help,” he said to the frantic shopkeeper as he caught a -side of the filthy cloth with which the squat Jew was trying desperately -to cover his malodorous fish to protect them from the dust and powdered -dung swirling along the cobblestones. “You’re lucky your market has the -protection of the wall, or everything would be blown away. This is one -of the worst storms I’ve ever.... By all the gods!” The ground had begun -to tremble. - -“An earthquake!” the shopkeeper shouted. “Wind and torrents of rain, and -now the earth shakes!” His eyes were round and frightened. But in -another moment the tremors subsided, and the man regained his calm. “I’m -not surprised, soldier,” he observed, lifting his hands, palms up, and -shaking his head solemnly. “And it makes no difference, I’m thinking, -that my stall sits in the lee of the great wall. By the beard of the -High Priest, it, too, will be leveled to the ground!” - -“What do you mean? Hasn’t this wall survived many an earthquake before -this one?” - -“Indeed, soldier. But we’ve never had anything like that before.” He -indicated with a quick nod of his head the hill beyond the gate’s -square. “Never _him_ on a cross.” He looked the centurion in the eyes, -and Cornelius fancied he saw a sudden hostility. “Soldier, have you been -up there?” - -“No, I’ve just come from the Fortress Antonia, and only an hour ago I -arrived in Jerusalem. What do you mean?” - -“I mean that one up there, soldier, on the middle cross.” He pointed. -“It’s that rabbi from Galilee. Your Pilate tried him this morning and -sent him to the cross, and unjustly, too, it’s my opinion. And I heard -it said that the Galilean told how he would cause the Temple to be -destroyed and in three days raise it up again.” He dabbed a greasy -forefinger against the centurion’s soiled toga. “And I’m of the opinion, -soldier, he’s got the power to do it. Didn’t he raise that fellow over -at Bethany from the dead? This storm and this earthquake”—he paused and -on his countenance was an expression of understanding suddenly -gained—“soldier, maybe he’s doing it now! Nor could I blame him.” He -shook his head slowly. “I’d hate to be in Pilate’s sandals, or those -soldiers’ up there!” - -Almost as quickly as it had burst upon them, the storm was ended. The -rain ceased with the blowing away of the clouds, the winds quieted, and -the great blazing disk of the sun, still high in the sky toward the -Great Sea, shone down bright and searing. The shopkeeper rolled back the -grimy cloth, crumpled it into a heap, and with it dabbed lightly at -several fish it had failed to protect; then he hurled it into a corner -and turned to wait upon pilgrims in the vanguard of a procession -Cornelius saw coming down the slope of the Hill of the Skull. - -“The Galilean, is he...?” - -“He’s dead,” the man answered before the fish merchant could complete -his question. “He died just as the storm broke. This fish”—he -pointed—“where was it caught?” - -“No earlier than the day before yesterday, and fetched by fast cart from -the Sea of Galilee. Good, fresh carp, perches, bream.” With grimy -fingers he poked at now one and now another of his offerings. “The -finest fish in Jerusalem, and the most weight for your money!” - -Cornelius stepped away from the stall into the warmth of the freshly -cleansed air. As he walked quickly along the road he could now see -plainly revealed the three crosses and their inert, mutilated burdens. -The pause in the fish market during the raging of the storm had given -him time to catch his breath after racing over the cobblestones from the -square in front of Antonia. - -But why had he come on the run to the Hill of the Skull? Why had he come -at all? Porcius had said that Jesus had already been nailed to the cross -for several hours. Had the centurion hoped in some mysterious manner to -save the Galilean, to get him down from the cross and revive him? Had he -thought he might countermand Pilate’s judgment and sentence? - -He hadn’t thought. He had acted on his emotions. He had wanted to see -Jesus, to protest to Longinus, to scream out his denunciation of -everyone who’d had a hand in this abominable act. He hadn’t reasoned any -course of action. He had only come as fast as he could to the place of -horrors, his whole being seething with resentment and anger and a -terrible bitterness. - -And now Jesus was dead. The good man who had done no man ill, who had -done countless men good, who had restored Lucian, and Chuza’s son. Or -had he really? - -Would he be up there now, perhaps already dead on a Roman cross, if he -had had the power to heal Chuza’s little boy, if he had been able by his -own mighty will to rid Lucian of the fever that was consuming him? Would -he? - -Longinus had been right. Those “miracles” had been only remarkable -coincidences. The Galilean wonder worker, the good man, the son of the -Jews’ one god—Cornelius ventured to raise his head from the ascending -path and look upward toward the central cross—was hanging spiked to a -crossbeam, crumpled and lifeless, as dead, or soon to be, as those two -revolutionaries who hung there with him. And Longinus, though unhappy -that Pilate had required him to crucify an innocent man, would remind -him that all along he had been right in denying that Jesus of Galilee -had been anything more than a good man. - -He found Longinus seated not far from the crosses on a low stone -outcropping. His head was bent forward, cradled in his hands, and his -eyes were fastened to the ground. - -“I’ve been expecting you, Cornelius,” he said, looking up as his friend -spoke. “I knew you would be coming.” - -“We didn’t get into Jerusalem until a short time before the storm. As -soon as I heard at Antonia, I came running; I was at the gate down there -when the storm struck.” - -“I knew you would come.” He shook his head slowly; his eyes were fixed, -unseeing. “And I deserve everything you’re going to say.” He lifted his -face, and Cornelius saw on it fear and sorrow and a great revulsion. -“I’m undone, my friend.” He arose slowly to his feet, and his eyes, for -an instant before he looked away, encompassed the crosses behind -Cornelius. - -“But, Longinus, you didn’t ... it was Pilate....” He reached out to put -his hand on his comrade’s arm, but Longinus drew back, hand raised. - -“No, Cornelius, Pilate condemned him, but I _killed_ him! I, this hand. -Look!” He held it before him and turned it slowly. “His blood! His -innocent blood! I tortured to his slow death an innocent man, a good -man, Cornelius, a perfect man, yes, and by all the gods, even more than -a perfect man!” - -“I’d thought that he was more, that perhaps he possessed powers no man -could have, I’d hoped so; I’d hoped that he had called upon a -supernatural power to heal Lucian. But would a god, would the son of -_the God_, if there is one, my friend”—Cornelius’ countenance was darkly -pained—“allow himself to be put to death, to accept the tortured death -of the cross?” - -“I know that my saying it sounds strange, Cornelius, but ever since this -morning I’ve had the feeling that he was _allowing_ himself to be -crucified and that at any moment, if he had wished, he could have -destroyed us all. Yet in the midst of his agonies, while we were spiking -him to the crossbeam, he prayed to his god to forgive us. To forgive us, -Centurion!” He shook his head sadly. “To forgive _me_. But I killed him. -By all the gods, let me show you.” - -They walked over to the foot of the center cross. The body of Jesus, -naked except for a bloody loincloth, hung out from the upright at a -grotesque angle, held by heavy spikes through the palms of the hands and -supported by a narrow wedge between the legs. The head had slumped -forward so that the twin points of his short beard splayed out across -his chest. Other large spikes through his purpling feet held them to the -upright. - -“See?” Longinus pointed to a gaping wound from which blood and body -fluid still dripped slowly. Blood had gushed forth when the wound was -made, for below it the tortured flesh was wide streaked and the -loincloth was gore-soaked; his blood had run down the length of one leg, -and even as Cornelius stared, a crimson bead swelled at the end of the -great toe and dropped to the bloodstained ground. - -“But why this wound?” Cornelius asked. “Did you...?” - -“Yes, it was my lance that did it. He must have been already dead, but I -didn’t know. And I couldn’t bear for him to have to endure any more -agony.” - -“You did it in mercy, Longinus.” - -“Yes, but I killed him, Cornelius. He’s dead, and I can never have his -forgiveness. And I’m soiled, ruined, undone. I can never cleanse -myself”—he studied his hands—“of this man’s death.” He lifted his eyes -to stare at his friend. “Strange, Cornelius, but ... well you know what -I’ve always thought of the gods, Roman, Greek, Jewish, any of them, and -of the survival of the spirit or whatever you want to call it. And you -know what I thought of”—he gazed a moment at the dead man stiffening -above them—“him.... Well today I’ve been with him for several hours, -_long_, terrible hours of torture for him, and for me, too.” He paused, -trying painfully to choose his words. “Now I don’t know, Cornelius; I’m -confused, my smug assurance is gone. I’m not sure any more. But he”—he -looked up again—“by all the gods, Cornelius, he was!” - -“Then you think now he may have been...?” - -“If there are any gods, Cornelius”—he stared into the blood-drained face -of the Galilean, and his voice was infinitely sad—“if there exists any -being like the one your old Greek tutor spoke of, a good, all-wise, -all-powerful one god, then this man must have been the son of that god.” - - - - - 52 - - -As soon as Longinus left the palace with her message, Claudia went back -to bed in the hope of finding relaxing sleep after the terrifying dream. -But sleep would not come; she was almost afraid to close her eyes for -fear the nightmare would return. And even as she lay sleepless, staring -wide-eyed at the high ceiling of her bed-chamber, she began to envision -a pair of disembodied blood-red hands feeling their way stealthily -around and across the intricate plastered figures and medallions of its -surface. - -“Tullia, it’s no use trying any longer,” she called to her maid, as she -swung her feet around to stand up. “I just can’t seem to shake off the -dream. Maybe if I dress and busy myself at something, I’ll think no more -of it. Thank the gods, though, I sent the Procurator that warning.” - -But as the morning hours went by the dream did not go away; it persisted -in all its horrible detail in the forefront of her consciousness, and -the harder she tried to dispel it, the more determinedly it stayed with -her. “Why, by the Great Mother, little one, am I so disturbed by a -dream?” she at length demanded of her maid. “I put no faith in dreams. I -must have had thousands, and not one has ever before bothered me. I know -they’re nothing but rearrangements, often fanciful and sometimes, like -this one, frightening, of things that have happened to us, people we’ve -seen, places we’ve visited. You can always explain them. Even this one I -understand. You came in late from Bethany with the fearful news of the -Galilean’s arrest and the High Priest’s plotting to have Pilate condemn -him. Then soon afterward I went to sleep and dreamed about it. It’s -simple enough to understand....” She paused, silent in thought. “Or is -it?” she asked softly. “Are people ever warned in dreams? Is there -really some power...?” The question was unfinished. - -“I don’t doubt it, Mistress. Our ancient scriptures tell of many -instances in which God spoke to His prophets in visions, which must have -been dreams or the like.” She paused. “And there’s the story of Julius -Caesar’s wife, you know.” - -“Yes,” Claudia’s eyes narrowed. “But if your god wished to save the -Galilean’s life, why didn’t he let Pilate have the dream?” - -Tullia shook her head thoughtfully. “I can’t say. I can’t fathom the -mind of God, Mistress.” A suggestion of a smile crossed her face. “Maybe -He thought you might have more influence on the Procurator than He -Himself could.” - -Claudia smiled. “Certainly I’m more real to Pilate—and threatening, no -doubt—than your Yahweh.” With a quick lifting of her shoulder, she -changed her tone. “But why talk of it further? I’m sure my message -warned him sufficiently. And I want to forget the dream and the -Galilean. This terrific heat is exhausting enough. Still, I do -wonder....” She scowled and said no more. - -The heat grew more intolerable. Longinus did not return, nor did any -news come from Antonia. Midday passed, and as she had done the day -before, Claudia retreated into the garden and sat on the stone bench -before the spouting fountain. But today, unlike yesterday, there were no -white puffs of clouds. Instead, from noon on, a thick overcast began to -settle upon Jerusalem, so that inside the palace servants lighted lamps, -which added, it seemed to Claudia, to the oppressiveness. As she sat -staring introspectively at the spray of water, the heat, despite the -covering of clouds screening off the sun’s rays, seemed to be mounting -as the skies darkened; in the thickening gloom the air grew still; -yesterday’s singing, twittering birds had taken cover under the heavy, -drooping foliage, and all nature seemed silently expectant of a coming -upheaval. But maybe, thought Claudia, the impending storm will not -descend; maybe the winds, like yesterday, will spring up and blow the -clouds away and bring welcome relief from this oppressive heat. - -It was during this foreboding lull, some two hours past midday, that a -sedan chair entered the palace grounds, and when the bearers set it down -at the doorway, the Tetrarchess of Galilee and Peraea emerged and was -admitted to the sumptuous edifice. A moment later, with much bowing and -murmured directing, servants conducted her to the wife of the -Procurator. But the two had done little more than exchange greetings and -sit down together when the winds did come, and with a suddenness and -severity that sent them scurrying for the protection of the palace. This -time the clouds were not immediately blown away; crash after crash of -lightning sundered them, and for a few wild moments they poured a deluge -upon the steaming, crowded capital of ancient Israel. - -“Claudia, I know you wonder why I have come,” Herodias said, when they -were settled in one of the inner chambers into which little of the noise -of the storm penetrated. “But soon the Feast of the Passover will be -ended, and we will be going back to our posts; I’m sure you, at any -rate, are unwilling to consider Caesarea home. So we may have little -further opportunity to talk together alone, Herod’s engaged at the -palace, and Pilate, I presume, will be busy at Antonia.” Claudia nodded. -“Yes. Well, you remember once in Rome when you came over to see me and -we were talking about Antipas and Longinus, and you wondered why I was -interested in the Tetrarch....” Herodias paused, and Claudia, smiling, -nodded again. “You may recall, too, I told you that I was interested in -what the Tetrarch could become, in the position he might attain, rather -than in Antipas as a man....” - -“Yes, I recall. You said he might become a king like his father.” - -“I did. Some day he might, I believe I said, with my conniving.” She -leaned forward and looked Claudia directly in the eyes. “The time has -come,” she said quietly, “for us to begin our determined conniving.” - -“_Our?_” Claudia queried, her tone intent. - -“Yes. What I’m scheming will concern you, and Longinus, as much as it -will Antipas and me.” Her brow suddenly furrowed. “You still feel the -same way about the centurion, don’t you, as you did when you left Rome -to come out here?” - -“Well, yes, but....” - -“Oh, I know, Claudia, you must be careful, must guard your tongue. But -you needn’t worry about my making indiscreet remarks, you know.” She -shrugged. “I haven’t thus far, have I? And I’ve known all along. And -now”—she did not wait for Claudia to answer her question—“the time has -come for us to strike out for what both of us want. Soon Longinus will -be going back to Rome, and more than likely this time he’ll have much to -tell the Prefect.” - -“But, Herodias....” - -The Tetrarchess laughed and shrugged. “Oh, nobody has told me anything,” -she said, “but I do have eyes and ears and an ability to put things -together. I know that Senator Piso and Sejanus are more than friends; -they’re bound to be business partners, for Sejanus, you may be sure, has -his fingers in any enterprise that has been operating with considerable -success. I know that Longinus has had unusual freedom for a centurion -presumably on active duty and that he has made trips back to Rome, to -Antioch, and to many another place that no centurion ordinarily would be -called on to visit in the course of duty. And you told me, remember, -that he was being sent out to Palestine on a special mission.” She -paused, and when Claudia made no comment, she smiled and gestured with -outflung hands. “Well, it makes little difference whether he was sent -out to watch Pilate or not, and maybe Antipas and me ...” she paused, -grinning, “and possibly even you, Claudia. He’ll probably be called back -to Rome soon to make some sort of report, even about the operation of -the Senator’s glassworks....” - -“But how would that affect you and Antipas, and Pilate ... and maybe -me?” - -“Longinus might be called back to Rome to report on Pilate’s ... well, -shortcomings.” - -“Even then I fail to understand how....” - -“This is the way I envision what might easily happen should he be -ordered to Rome,” Herodias interrupted. “Longinus certainly must have -strong influence with Sejanus, because he’s Senator Piso’s son, for one -thing. Should he point out, and with emphasis, Pilate’s failures as an -administrator—and certainly he’d have little trouble supporting his -charge—he might very likely cause the Prefect to dismiss Pilate as -Procurator or move him to another province. And with Pilate disgraced, -surely you would be permitted to divorce him.” She smiled and airily -lifted her hands. “Then, my dear, you could marry Longinus and return to -Rome to live.” - -“Maybe so. But even then how would that affect you and Antipas?” - -Herodias leaned toward her hostess, her expression intent. “Suppose -Pilate is dismissed, transferred, even, by the gods, beheaded....” Her -eyes narrowed. “That would cause you no grief, would it?” But she did -not pause for Claudia’s comment. “Then Sejanus, regardless of Pilate’s -fate, might extend Antipas’ realm to include Judaea, don’t you see, and -elevate him to kingship. And I”—she sat back and smiled felinely—“would -be queen.” Quickly the smile vanished. “And I shall never be content, -Claudia, until I’m a queen. Why, soon as Tetrarchess I’ll have no higher -station than little Salome.” She paused, her expression suddenly -questioning. “Did you know that she is marrying Herod Philip?” - -“_Her father?_” Claudia exclaimed, aghast. “By all the gods, surely....” - -“Of course not, my dear.” Herodias laughed. “The other Herod Philip, her -father’s half brother and”—she grinned—“my half uncle. He rules the puny -tetrarchy over east of us, Batanea and Trachonitis. He’s considerably -older than Salome, naturally, but....” - -“Then he’s Salome’s half great-uncle and half uncle as well as half -stepuncle, and ... well....” Claudia broke off with a shrug. “You Herods -really never let anything get out of the family, do you?” Then she was -serious. “But what about old King Aretas? If he should attack -Antipas....” - -“Certainly he hasn’t attacked yet,” Herodias hastened to reply. “And he -probably never will. But even if he does, that might just strengthen -Antipas with Rome. At any rate,” she added, “the Arabian isn’t making -trouble at the moment.” - -“But, Herodias, what if Sejanus, instead of putting Judaea under Antipas -and making him king, should send out a new Procurator to succeed -Pilate?” - -The Tetrarchess of Galilee and Peraea was not abashed. “In that case,” -she replied without hesitation, “he might even make Longinus Procurator, -although I’m sure he—and surely you too, wouldn’t you—would prefer to be -assigned a post in some province other than Judaea. But in any event, -Claudia, if Longinus should very strongly recommend and urge the -transfer of Pilate and the extension of Antipas’ realm to embrace -Judaea, then I’m confident it would have great weight with Sejanus. -That’s why I came to see you, Claudia, the principal reason, I mean. I -hope you’ll suggest such a course to Longinus. It’s a way by which you -and Longinus and I—I’m not considering Pilate and indolent old -Antipas—can attain what all three of us want most.” She leaned forward -again, and her expression betrayed a malevolent cunning. “Claudia, -Longinus would have good reason to advise Sejanus to withdraw Pilate -from Judaea. Pilate from his first days out here has failed to get along -with the Jews, from the High Priest on down. And now, today, the -suddenly bitter hostility of the followers of this Galilean fellow whom -he tried this morning....” - -“Galilean fellow?” Claudia’s expression was suddenly grave. “Who...?” - -“Maybe you haven’t heard of him. He has a large following devotedly -attached to him, so large that the Temple leaders are both jealous and -fearful of him. They brought him before Pilate this morning, and the -Procurator, wishing to evade responsibility”—her tone was -sarcastic—“sent him to Antipas for trial, since the fellow was a -Galilean, from the village of Nazareth, I believe. But I learned about -it in time to warn Antipas to have nothing to do with the fellow....” -She paused, and the bitter lines around her mouth deepened in a scowl. -“He’s never forgotten that Wilderness fanatic at Machaerus. So he sent -the Galilean back to Pilate.” She smiled. “Whatever the Procurator does -with him, or has done, will add to his troubles with the Jews ...” she -paused—“or at any rate, we hope so, don’t we?” - -“Then you don’t know whether Pilate has tried the man?” Claudia tried to -conceal her anxiety. - -“No. I only know that Antipas didn’t fall into Pilate’s trap.” - -_... Thank the Bountiful Mother I sent Pilate the message...._ - -“You were always a clever one, Herodias. Antipas is fortunate.” But she -did not elaborate and quickly changed the subject. - -With the same suddenness that it had begun, like the opening and closing -of a great door, the storm ended, and the sun shone down through skies -sparkling and refreshed. “I must be going,” said Herodias. “I’ve much to -do before we start back to Tiberias. My dear”—she laid her hand -affectionately on Claudia’s arm and stood up—“do come to visit us again. -And won’t you talk with Longinus about this? You’ll be seeing him, of -course, perhaps tonight?” - -“Perhaps.” But Claudia’s smile was thin. - -Herodias’ visit and the dissipation of the storm clouds had done nothing -to dispel Claudia’s misgivings; the news brought by the Tetrarchess had, -in fact, served to deepen her foreboding. Why hadn’t Pilate acknowledged -receiving her message, if indeed he had received it? Suddenly the -desperate notion possessed her that the Procurator had failed to get her -hurriedly scribbled warning. And why, if he had seen it, had he failed -to reassure her that Jesus would not be condemned? What, by the gods, -had Pilate done with him? - -She summoned her maid. “You must go up to Antonia and discover what’s -happened to the Galilean, Tullia,” she said. “Until I hear, I shall have -no peace.” She hesitated, brow furrowed. “No, wait. I’ll go myself. Call -the sedan-chair bearers.” - - - - - 53 - - -When Herodias returned to the Hasmonean Palace she learned from Neaera -that the Tetrarch had shut himself away from all company in the -seclusion of one of the inner chambers. He seemed to be entering a -period of depression, the maid reported, like the one into which he had -plunged after the beheading of the Wilderness prophet. - -The Tetrarchess found him sprawled in his chair, staring at the wall, -his heavy jowls sagging. For a moment he appeared unmindful of her -entrance. Then he turned ponderously to face her. “The Galilean,” he -said slowly, as though in pain, “is dead. Crucified.” - -“Dead already? How did you learn it?” - -“Joanna. She was at the Hill of the Skull with some of his friends, -including Mary of Magdala. They saw him die. But she declared she knew -that the Galilean”—suddenly his dull eyes brightened with the pain of -sharpened fear—“would rise from the dead and avenge himself upon his -enemies. Herodias”—he got heavily to his feet and flung out his hands in -desperation—“why did you make me do it? By the beard of the High Priest, -Tetrarchess, why, why?” - -“Are you mad, Antipas?” Her dark eyes snapped. “You didn’t kill him! By -the gods, Pilate did. The Procurator tried him. You sent him back to -Pilate, don’t you remember?” - -“Of course I sent him back to Pilate. But I had it in my power to free -him; instead, I sent him to his death. When he rises, he will wreak upon -me a double vengeance.” - -“Double vengeance?” - -“Yes, the vengeance of both the prophet of the Wilderness and of the -Nazarene.” His eyes glittered with incipient madness. “The Nazarene was -the prophet returned to life. When he arises, he will be the two -returned.” - -“Nonsense!” Herodias advanced, her eyes flaming, and grasped her -husband’s arm. “If the Galilean is dead, he’s dead, and you know it. -Must you give heed to Joanna’s superstitious drivel?” Her scowl -lightened into a crafty smile. “Pilate has served you well in crucifying -this fellow. Can’t you see that the Galilean’s followers will be all the -more determined to do the Procurator ill?” - -“But how will his misfortune help me?” the Tetrarch asked. - -“Your father ruled this whole province. Should Pilate’s mishandling of -his duties drive him from the Procuratorship, the Emperor might elevate -you to king of all the region. It’s not for nothing that your father is -called ‘Herod the Great.’” She shook a ringed forefinger under his nose. -“If you had one-fourth the ambition and energy that he had, you’d -already be wearing the crown!” - -“But I don’t want to wear a crown,” Antipas protested. “Crowns often -become greater burdens than they’re worth. We can live out our lives at -Tiberias, happy and unchallenged, and enjoy the benefits of the royal -prerogative without risking its dangers and burdens, my dear, and with -considerably less chance of drawing the ire of old Sejanus.” - -Herodias stamped her foot angrily. “Don’t you have any aspirations, -Antipas? Are you willing to continue being a mouse instead of a man?” -Her tone was coldly sarcastic, and she knotted her hand into a fist to -emphasize her stern words. “Well, by the beard of the High Priest, -Antipas, I’m going to see to it that you sit on the throne of Judaea as -your father did. I’ve just returned from talking with Claudia about my -plan ... and my determination ... to get you elevated to kingship. She -will help; she wants to see Pilate disgraced so that she can divorce him -and marry Longinus.” - -“I don’t know about that, my dear Tetrarchess. What would be the -difference anyway, except in titles? Wouldn’t it be best to let well -enough...?” - -“And spend the rest of our lives in an out-of-the-way poor district of -illiterate fishermen and grape growers! Never!” she stormed. “Would you -be willing for me never to occupy a station higher than Salome, by all -the gods?” She studied him, her contempt plainly revealed. “I do believe -you _would_. Well, I’m not willing. I’ll leave you first ... and go back -to Rome!” She was silent for a moment and when he made no retort, -continued. “This is what we’ll do,” she said, her tone even now. “We’ll -return to Tiberias and begin to assemble choice presents for the -Emperor, and most important, for Sejanus. And you will increase the -revenue going to the Prefect. The gifts will please and flatter him, and -the increased revenues from Galilee and Peraea may suggest to him that -if you were governing the whole province the increase in taxes would be -substantial. And we won’t send them to Rome, the gifts, I mean, but -we’ll take them ourselves, and then we can personally petition Sejanus -to make you king over the entire province.” - -Herod Antipas shook his grizzled head slowly, and his countenance was -troubled. “But I foresee only disaster if....” - -“I don’t care what you foresee or how agitated you may become,” she -said, with a defiant toss of her head, “we are going to Rome to ask the -Prefect to make you king, and I’m either coming back to Palestine as -queen or I’m not coming back at all!” - - - - - 54 - - -As Claudia and her maid entered the anteroom adjacent to the -Procurator’s great chamber in the southwestern tower of Antonia, two men -of serious mien, well-dressed and with beards oiled and carefully -braided, emerged from Pilate’s room and walked quickly into the -corridor. - -Claudia motioned Tullia to a seat and without pausing strode past the -attendant through the still unclosed doorway. - -Pilate stood before one of the windows facing westward. His long shadow -reached out to her feet across the high-domed room; soon now the sun -would be dropping beneath the wall of the ancient city, and the -solemnity of the Jewish Sabbath would still the Passover festivities. He -turned to face his wife, and she saw that his expression was deadly -serious. She questioned him with a lift of her head. “Those men who just -went out?” - -“Wealthy Jews,” he replied. “One of them anyway, a merchant from -Arimathea. Both of them members of the Sanhedrin. They came to petition -me.” He saw that she was still not satisfied. “A small matter; they -asked for the body of one of the men crucified today. They want to bury -him.” He advanced toward her and managed a thin smile. “Here, my dear -Claudia,” he pointed, “have this chair.” His smile warmed. “To what am I -indebted for the honor of your visit?” - -“This man whose body they wished,” she asked, ignoring his question, -“could it be that he was the Galilean mystic?” - -“Yes, they said he was from Galilee.” His eyes avoided her probing -stare. - -“He was called Jesus?” - -“I believe they called him that.” - -“Then you did not receive my message ... about the dream I had?” - -She saw in his eyes a mounting panic. “Yes, Claudia, but it was only a -dream, and the High Priest demanded....” - -“You condemned to the cross an innocent man”—she stood up and pointed a -trembling finger at the Procurator, and her eyes blazed -furiously—“because the High Priest demanded it! The great Procurator, -representative of imperial Rome, _crucified_ an innocent man because a -jealous and mean little Temple strut-cock _ordered_ you to send him to -the cross! By all the gods, Pilate, _and_ you condemned him after _I_ -sent you that warning!” - -“But, Claudia, I was being pulled at from both sides. I didn’t want to -condemn him. I told them I found no fault in the man. I had a basin of -water fetched and before the multitude I washed my hands of his blood, -and....” - -“You washed your hands of his blood! Never! Oh, by all the gods, those -hands! Those blood-red, crawling, slinking hands!” She held her palms -before her face. “In the dream I saw them. Now you’ll never be able to -cleanse those foul, polluted hands.” - -“But if I had released him, Claudia, and news had got back to the -Prefect that I had allowed a dangerous revolutionary to go free....” - -“You knew he was no revolutionary.” Her voice was almost a hiss. “You -knew he was an innocent man, and you sent him to the cross.” She crossed -the room quickly and looked out toward the Hill of the Skull. The -shadows were heavy in the square before Antonia, but the sinking sun -shone levelly upon the three burdened crosses on the hill. “Which cross -is his?” she asked, without taking her eyes from the macabre scene. - -“The one at the center,” he replied, his eyes fixed unseeing on the -polished surface of his desk. - -“And he is dead, you’re sure of that?” - -“I don’t know. I’ve sent for the centurion in charge of the execution, -and now I’m waiting for his report. I told the two Jews I would not -release the body until I was certain the Galilean was dead. Should the -body be taken down and the man revived, and should word, as it would, -get to Rome....” - -“Are you concerned only with what sort of reports go to Rome?” she -demanded, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “Have you no interest in seeing -justice prevail even in Judaea?” - -“I am interested, my dear Claudia”—he appeared somewhat to have regained -his composure—“in maintaining myself in the office of Procurator. -Perhaps I erred in the case of this Galilean. Perhaps I should have -given greater heed to the message you sent me. But I’ve spent many hard -years in the army, and I have long dreamed of being the Procurator of a -province of imperial Rome. Now that I have attained it, I must not gain -the further enmity of the Temple leadership, or I might lose the post, -you know.” - -“Then your only concern is in remaining Procurator of Judaea?” Her tone -was coldly scornful. “And you might have the post taken from you, at -that. Much depends, you know, on the attitude of the Prefect toward -you.” - -Pilate blanched. “But, my dear, surely you wouldn’t suggest to him that -he carry to Sejanus an evil report about my conduct of affairs....” - -“To _him_? To whom, Excellency”—she paused, and her tone was -taunting—“do you refer?” - -But once more he was evasive. “Perhaps you are tired, my dear,” he said -with a short, humorless laugh. “Perhaps you should return to the palace. -I can order the sedan-chair bearers....” - -“Mine are outside,” she replied evenly. “But why are you trying to get -rid of me, Pilate? Does the Galilean haunt you already?” - -“Indeed, no.” Again he attempted a laugh, but it lacked conviction. “Any -minute now the centurion will be reporting to me, and I thought perhaps -you would not wish to be reminded again of the Galilean’s death or your -strange dream....” - -“No, I will stay. Perhaps it is you who do not wish to be reminded that -you condemned to a terrible death a man innocent of the crime charged -against him, innocent of any crime, and known by you to be innocent!” - -“But, my dear Claudia, had I freed....” - -The Procurator’s protest was interrupted by a knock on the door, and a -moment later at Pilate’s bidding the attendant entered. “The Centurion -Longinus, Excellency,” he said, bowing, “has arrived to make his -report.” - -“Longinus! By great Jupiter, did you send Longinus to crucify the -Galilean?” She whirled to face the centurion, who had entered the -chamber. “Surely, Longinus, you didn’t...” Abruptly she stopped; her -face, suddenly drained of fury, betrayed apprehension and pain. - -“Yes,” he said, “I killed him. I was ordered by the Procurator to do so, -but that doesn’t absolve me from guilt. I crucified an innocent man”—his -eyes shifted to level on Pilate—“as the Procurator well knew when he -condemned him to the cross.” He paused, but Pilate did not challenge the -statement. “Excellency, you sent for me to report. The Galilean is dead. -Your order has been carried out.” - -“Thank you, Centurion. Then I shall grant those Jews’ request for the -body for burial.” He spoke calmly, but his flustered manner betrayed an -inner stress. “You may return to your duty and notify the men, who will -be at the execution ground, that I grant their petition. You may have -your quaternion help them remove the body from the cross and ...” - -He broke off suddenly. Through the slit in the doorway, which Longinus -had failed to close completely behind him, came the insistent voice of a -man talking with Pilate’s aide in the anteroom. “By the gods, I’m glad -to catch him. I’ve come from Caesarea with a message for him from the -Commander Sergius Paulus. And I was given emphatic instructions to -deliver it myself into his hands with the seals unbroken,” they heard -the man say. “I’ve been searching all over Jerusalem for him; I even -went out to the crucifixion hill.” He lowered his voice. “It’s bound to -be an important message. It came from Rome, probably, by the gods, from -the Prefect or even the Emperor.” - -“Centurion, perhaps you’d prefer to go out there”—Pilate’s face had -paled perceptibly—“to accept the message.” - -Longinus nodded and left the room. As the door closed behind him, -Claudia turned with renewed fury upon her husband. “Why did you assign -Longinus to crucify the Galilean?” she cried. “Was it because I sent my -message by him and you suspected he had spent the night with me and you -finally did me the small honor of being jealous? Well, by the gods”—her -voice was tremulous as her anger rose—“_that’s exactly what he did_!” -With hatred in her eyes she approached him, coming so close that their -faces nearly touched. “And, you fool, that wasn’t the first time,” she -added with a low, harsh laugh, “nor even, by Jupiter, the last!” - -The Procurator stepped back and sank heavily into his chair. For a long -moment he sat silent, staring at the floor. Then he raised his eyes to -his wife’s bitter, scornful face. “Surely you cannot believe me that -stupid, Claudia my dear,” he said quietly, “to think that I haven’t -known. Surely you must know that I am not entirely deaf and blind, that -I have even contrived to spend many an evening away so that you....” He -paused, pensively contemplating the woman before him. “But perhaps you -don’t know....” - -“Oh, how I despise you!” she screamed. “I knew you were a weakling, a -coward, a ... yes, today, even a murderer. But I didn’t know you were a -crawling worm who would willingly lend his wife to another man! By all -Pluto’s fire-blackened imps, I....” - -“But perhaps you don’t know,” the Procurator went on, “that I was -commanded by the Prefect and the Emperor, at the time our marriage was -arranged, to do everything possible to keep you content in this dismal -province ... even to overlooking any indiscretions....” - -“Then you’ve been willing to do anything, by the Great Mother, in order -to stay in the good graces of old Sejanus,” Claudia hissed. “You’re -willing to send a good and innocent man, maybe a god-man, to the cross -rather than displease a contemptible High Priest who might complain -against you to the Prefect!” She clenched her fists and brought them -down, hard, across the desk. “You’re even willing to surrender your wife -to another man’s enjoyment in order—you said it—to keep her ‘content’ -but _really_ to keep that man from reporting to Sejanus your bumbling -incompetence, your foolish provocations, your utter imbecility!” Her -voice had risen to a shout. Slowly she moved toward the window, and then -she whirled about to face him again. “Well, I’m not ‘content,’ and I -never will be ... with you! And by all the gods, I hope Longinus will go -to Rome and reveal to Sejanus how miserably you have administered the -affairs of the Empire in this province!” She pointed at him from across -the room. “And how you have dragged in the dust Rome’s vaunted justice, -how in all probability”—her voice dropped to a menacing tone—“you have -withheld funds from the Empire’s treasury....” - -“No! Oh, no, Claudia! I have kept back nothing due the Empire or the -Prefect! Nothing! Not one shekel, not a denarius! Longinus knows it’s -true.” He lowered his voice. “Hasn’t he been watching; hasn’t he been -reporting? Surely you don’t think I haven’t suspected....” But suddenly -he broke off his protests. Quickly crossing the chamber, he opened the -door and summoned the centurion. “You have heard my wife’s words?” he -asked, as he closed the door behind them. - -“I’ve heard excited words,” Longinus replied cautiously. “I didn’t get -the full import of them, though.” - -“Claudia has been hurling accusations at me. She said she hoped you -would report me to the Prefect when you go to....” He paused, and both -his face and voice revealed his fear. “The message was from Rome, wasn’t -it? From Sejanus? He asked you to report to him on the situation out -here, how I’m administering...?” - -“He asked me to come at once to Rome, but he said only that it was to -meet with him on a matter of utmost concern, the nature of which he did -not indicate. Here, Excellency”—he handed the letter to the -Procurator—“you may read it yourself.” - -Eagerly the Procurator accepted the message. His forehead creased as he -studied it. “True,” he said, handing it back to Longinus, “there’s no -mention in it of the Procurator. But surely the Prefect will ask you how -I’m administering affairs. I beg of you, Centurion, don’t give him an -unfavorable report; don’t make any charges against....” - -“What of the Galilean you’ve just crucified?” Claudia interrupted. “Can -you contend that you even thought you were acting justly? Didn’t you -just tell me you found no fault in the man? What else could Longinus -tell the Prefect concerning your trial...?” - -“But the centurion will say nothing of this Galilean, surely.” The trace -of a sickly smile flickered across his round face. “The centurion will -remember that it was _he_ who crucified the man.” - -“Yes, I shall never forget that I killed him,” Longinus said. “And I -suspect that to the end of his days the Procurator, too, will remember -the part he played in this horrible thing. But if this Galilean’s case -comes to the Prefect’s attention and he inquires of me about it, I shall -reveal fully what happened, and why I was involved.” - -“But surely, Centurion, unless you report it, Sejanus will never know -about it. Caiaphas is pleased. The illiterate, poor followers of the -Galilean didn’t even attempt to aid him at the trial; their protests, if -they offer any, can never reach as far as Rome. I beg of you, Longinus, -make no mention of it to the Prefect. The Galilean is dead; soon he’ll -be forgotten.” - -“No!” Claudia protested. “I’ll never forget him! Longinus will never -forget him! Nor will _you_! Look at your hands, Pilate. Soon you will be -seeing them as I saw them, cold, clammy, scurrying to hide themselves -under the rocks, foul and evil and reeking with _his_ blood! By all the -gods, Pilate”—her voice was shrill in newly mounting anger—“if Longinus -doesn’t tell the Prefect of your cowardly flouting of Roman justice, _I_ -will!” - -The Procurator’s face blanched. He started to speak, then swallowed. -“Claudia, my dear, you wouldn’t. Surely you wouldn’t be so....” - -“Indeed, I would! I have lost all patience with you, Pilate. Today I’ve -seen you as I’ve never seen you before. You’re a small man, Procurator, -vain, self-seeking, pompous, and yet a sniveling coward too fearful for -his own skin to rule justly. And at the first opportunity I shall so -describe you to the Prefect ... and perhaps to the Emperor.” - -“No, my dear! No! Please....” His panic changed quickly into abject -pleading. “Please don’t, my dear. Why should you wish to ruin me? What -would it gain you ... and Longinus?” He sat down wearily behind his -desk. “Why can’t we continue as we have been ...” he paused, “enduring -this trying land and these troublesome people? Centurion”—he faced -Longinus—“for a long time I have suspected, and known, the ... -situation. But haven’t I been understanding, even co-operative?” The -suggestion of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Why, then, -cannot the three of us, understanding this and appreciating it, just -continue to play the roles as we have been? Why can’t we...?” - -“Oh, by great Ceres!” Claudia shouted angrily, “you are indeed a -crawling worm! You _invite_ another man to your wife’s bed! You pander! -You’re nothing but a procurer, a Spanish pimp! Gods, but I detest you!” -Turning, she strode to the door and opened it. “Summon my sedan-chair -bearers,” she ordered the attendant, “and quickly!” Then she wheeled -about to face the Procurator again. “I’m going back to the palace. I -cannot summon the patience to remain longer in your presence. It would -please me greatly if I should never lay eyes on you again!” She stormed -through the doorway; the door slammed behind her. - -Pilate sat unmoving and stared stonily into space. - -“A moment ago, Excellency,” Longinus ventured, “you directed me to -return to the Hill of the Skull. The Jewish Sabbath is fast nearing. -Perhaps I should go now.” - -Without raising his eyes, Pontius Pilate nodded. Longinus crossed the -darkening chamber and went out. After a while the Procurator stood up -and walked to the window. Out beyond Antonia’s front square and the -squat stone structures flanking it, on a wretched knoll beyond the -city’s wall, the three crosses still lifted their quiet burdens into the -waning light. But already the shadow of the wall was groping for the -pinioned feet of the man on the middle cross. For a long moment Pilate -stood rooted before the window; when the shadow had climbed to engulf -the man’s sagging knees, he turned slowly away and sat again in his big -chair. As the gloom thickened in the great chamber, the staring -Procurator leaned slowly forward to cross his arms on the desk and, -bending over, cradled his round head on their crossing. - - - - - 55 - - -Late in the afternoon of the Jews’ Sabbath the Procurator Pontius Pilate -stood face to face once again with the High Priest Joseph Caiaphas. - -“My visit to you, Excellency, and the petition I bring,” he began, -“concern that impostor and revolutionary you crucified yesterday, the -one who was seeking to establish himself upon the restored throne of -Israel.” - -“But the man is dead and buried,” Pilate spoke up irritably. “Can’t you -let him lie quietly in his tomb? Can’t you understand that I wish to -have no further mention made to me of that Galilean?” - -“Indeed I do understand, Excellency. That’s exactly what we also wish, -to allow him to lie quietly and undisturbed until his body rots and his -name is forgotten.” He leaned forward, and his black eyes lighted with -new fires. “But, Excellency, as you may have been told, that blasphemer -was heard to declare that he would destroy our Temple and in three days -with his own hands rebuild it. Now some of his deluded followers are -saying that he wasn’t speaking of the Temple yonder”—he nodded in the -direction of the great structure—“but rather of his own physical body. -They interpret his words as meaning that he would of his own accord give -his life and then on the third day claim it again and walk forth from -his tomb. Of course, Excellency, we know that the fellow is dead and -will never rise again”—with the tip of his tongue he licked his thin red -lips—“but many naïve ones may be deluded into believing that he really -did possess power to call back his life. Even today a report has reached -us that certain of his followers are planning in the nighttime to visit -the tomb and steal away the body. Then with the tomb empty on the -morrow, which will be the third day since he died, they can publish -abroad the tidings that the blasphemer really did arise as he had -declared he would do.” - -“But how am I concerned in this nonsense?” Pilate was plainly annoyed. -“What do you want me to do?” - -“We would have you set a guard over the fellow’s tomb, Excellency, to -see that no one steals away the body.” - -“What’s this but children’s prattle? Surely no one would seriously -expect a dead man to walk from his tomb.” Slowly Pilate’s scowl gave way -to a mocking half-smile. “What would the High Priest do if the Galilean -_did_ rise? _You_ contrived his crucifixion.” - -“But what, Excellency, would the Procurator do? _You crucified_ him.” - -Pilate was not amused by the High Priest’s retort. “Maybe it’s as well,” -he observed, “that neither of us will be so tested.” For a moment he was -silent, looking away. Then he turned back to face Caiaphas. “You have -your Temple guards. Can’t you use some of them to guard that tomb?” - -“But, Excellency, with the great surge of Passover pilgrims still in the -Temple courts and about the cattle stalls and the money changers’ -tables, our guards are all greatly needed. And, more important, your -placing a guard would lend greater prestige....” - -“The Antonia garrison is just as busy,” Pilate interrupted, “and many of -our soldiers are leaving Jerusalem. Maybe, though, I can arrange yet -again to humor the High Priest.” He beckoned to an aide. “Summon the -fortress commander.” - -“Are there any centurions available for a special assignment beginning -at once and continuing into tomorrow?” he asked, when a few moments -later the officer appeared. - -“Centurion Longinus, sir, is....” - -“No, by all the gods!” - -“The only other one not assigned at the present is Centurion Cornelius. -He’s preparing to return his....” - -“Then call Cornelius in and instruct him to select from his century a -sufficient detail and mount a guard at the tomb of the Galilean”—he -paused and looked unsmiling toward the High Priest—“rather, the ‘King of -the Jews,’ to see that it is not disturbed.” - -Caiaphas smiled grimly but made no comment. - -“Now, O High Priest, you will have your guard, though I consider a guard -unnecessary. Once again your will has prevailed.” He bowed, and his -smile was cold. “I trust your sleep tonight will be peaceful.” - - - - - 56 - - -It was within two hours of midnight after the Jewish Sabbath, which by -Hebrew reckoning ended at sundown, when Longinus came to the Palace of -the Herods. Claudia was already in her nightdress and prepared for bed. -“Aren’t you going to spend the night?” she asked eagerly, after he -loosened her from their warm embrace. - -“With your permission,” he said, grinning wryly. “I have your husband’s, -remember.” - -“Please, let’s not talk of him.” Her expression sobered. “Did I speak -too frankly yesterday, Longinus? Did I reveal too much to him ... about -us, I mean? Is that why you didn’t come last night? You were annoyed -with me?” - -“You really spoke your feelings, didn’t you? But I wasn’t annoyed with -you,” he said. “In fact, I’m glad you spoke up. And I suspect he was not -surprised at what you told him, only that you would say it, and with -such fury.” She had sat down on the side of her bed. He seated himself -beside her and bent over to unfasten his sandals. Then he straightened -and faced her. “Claudia, I was too depressed last night to be good -company.” He shook his head slowly. “I’ve never been in lower spirits.” - -“Because of the Galilean?” - -“Yes. Because of what I had done. It felt like a crushing load on my -back. I couldn’t get out from under it.” He stood up, and laid his tunic -across a chair. “After I left you and Pilate, I went back out to the -crosses and helped get him down, taking care to see that in pulling the -nails out we didn’t tear or further bruise the flesh”—he paused in his -narration, and his low laugh was hollow, mirthless—“after I had seen the -nails driven through the living flesh and had plunged my lance into his -side. Then we put him in the rich Jew’s tomb; they had bound the body -the way the Jews prepare their dead for burial, although they didn’t -have time to anoint it with aromatic spices as they customarily do....” - -“They are going to do that tomorrow,” Claudia interrupted him. “Tullia -has gone out to Bethany to go with Mary of Magdala and Chuza’s wife -Joanna and some other followers of the Galilean early in the morning to -the tomb to finish the burial rites.” She paused. “But I interrupted -your story. What did you do when you had finished out there?” - -“I came back to Antonia and sat for a long time on the balcony looking -out over the Temple courts. Then I went to bed and tried to get some -sleep, but I couldn’t, no matter how I tried. Every time I closed my -eyes I saw that man ... the death march out to the hill, nailing him -down, lifting him to the upright....” He cupped his palm across his -eyes. “By the gods, Claudia, it was terrible, frightening. And his -crying out to his god to forgive us.” His hand dropped listlessly to his -side. “Well, I finally gave up and walked out along the balcony again, -and then I went to see Cornelius. He was troubled, too. He hadn’t gone -to bed. We sat and talked, mostly about that man, until daylight.” - -“Did you come to any conclusion ... about him, I mean?” - -“Well, no, I suppose not, except that it was a monstrous crime to -crucify such a man, though Cornelius still held to the idea that the -Galilean probably was a god of some sort, that he had supernatural -powers, even the ability to heal people—he insisted that he had healed -his little Lucian—maybe to raise dead people to life. Cornelius even -said he thought it was possible that the Galilean might come to life -himself, as some of his followers say he will, and walk out of that -tomb.” He was silent for a moment. “If he does,” he added after awhile, -“he’ll have to move a tremendous stone from the mouth of the tomb ... -and _from the inside_.” He sat down again beside her. “And under the -noses of the guards, too.” - -“The guards?” - -“Yes. At the insistence of the High Priest, Pilate has set a guard at -the tomb to prevent the Galilean’s followers from stealing the body and -claiming that he actually did come to life. The Procurator put Cornelius -in charge, and I went out there with him; in fact, I’ve just come from -there. Cornelius is going to stay until daylight.” - -“Then Pilate is still trying to appease the High Priest, even after all -I said to him yesterday?” - -“Evidently. The Procurator isn’t likely to change his ways.” - -“Maybe I was rash yesterday in losing my temper and speaking with such -boldness, but I’ve come to have such contempt for him, to loathe him so. -Oh, Longinus”—she clutched his arm in both hands and clung to him—“how -can I stay with him longer in this dreary land? Please take me with you -to Rome. Hasn’t the time come...?” - -“That’s why I’m here, Claudia.” Then his serious expression softened, -and his eyes teased. “And because it’s my last night.” - -“Must you be leaving tomorrow?” - -“Yes. I’m going with Cornelius as far as Tiberias. From there I’ll go -across to Ptolemaïs and get a ship for Rome. Cornelius is providing me -an escort to the coast. I’ll have to get the first ship leaving that -port for the capital. But I had to see you before I left. Claudia”—in -the subdued light of the bedchamber the gentle flame of the wall lamp -was mirrored in his eyes as he looked deeply into hers—“it may be that a -way of escape is about to open for us. By all the gods, it’s strange, -and distressing, too, but the death of the Galilean may actually save -us.” - -“You mean that Pilate in condemning the Galilean may have condemned -himself?” - -“I believe he has ... in one way or another. And I think he has given -you a means of freeing yourself.” He paused. “You’re sure no one can -hear us?” - -She nodded. But he went to the door anyway, listened with his ear to the -panel, and tried the bolt. - -“This is dangerous, Claudia,” he said, as he sat down again. “You -mustn’t breathe a word of it to anybody, not even Tullia. It could get -us both killed.” He lowered his voice. “That message I had yesterday. It -brought startling news. I purposely showed it to Pilate, but of course -he had no idea what it was saying. But I did. That ‘matter of utmost -concern’ was the Prefect’s way of notifying me that now he’s finally -ready to proceed with his scheme and wants me in Rome when he makes his -move.” - -“But this new scheme? What...?” - -“It’s not a new one, Claudia. He gave me a broad hint concerning his -plans the last time I was home; he said that when I got a message so -worded it would mean he was ready to proceed with the final step.” He -leaned close to her. “Claudia, Sejanus is plotting _to have the Emperor -assassinated_; he is bidding for the throne.” - -“But surely”—her face had paled—“he doesn’t mean for you to ...” - -“Oh, no, not that. Some palace servant out at Capri will probably attend -to that. But he wants me in Rome when it’s done so that I can help rally -his supporters at the crucial moment and make him Emperor.” - -“But even if Sejanus should become Emperor, how would that help us?” - -“I would be much closer to him than I am now, one of his advisors,” the -centurion replied. “I’m sure I could poison him against Pilate, and -justly. This case of the Galilean will be just one more example of his -unfitness to administer Roman government. His failure to conciliate, his -forever keeping Judaea in a stir....” - -“But, Longinus”—her face revealed sudden apprehension, fear—“what if the -Emperor’s supporters should discover the Prefect’s plotting and kill -_him_ before he could have the Emperor killed?” - -“Then I would have been on the Emperor’s side.” Longinus smiled -reassuringly and patted the back of her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry -about me; I’ll not let myself get trapped. And soon now, either way the -dice fall, we’ll be the winners.” He stood up and quickly lifted her to -her feet. Leaning over, he pulled down the light coverlet. “But for now, -my dearest,” he said, as he gently pushed her down and lifted her legs -to the bed, “let’s forget them all; let’s make what’s left of it _our_ -night.” - - - - - 57 - - -Once more she felt herself floating upward in a dark morass of confused -and tangled dreaming. Then as she seemed to burst through the heavy -waters to the surface and a sudden effulgent light, she sat up, eyes -blinking and sleep drained from her. - -The knocking and calling were restrained but insistent from Tullia’s -side of the door. “Mistress! Oh, Mistress! Mistress!” - -She sprang from the bed. “Just a moment, little one, until I can draw -back the bolt.” The movement and her exclamation awakened Longinus; -precipitately he sat up in bed. “Tullia’s returned,” she explained to -him, as he blinked sleepily. She opened the door. “Bona Dea, you’re -breathless,” she said to the girl. “What’s happened, by great Ceres?” - -“I’ve run all the way from the Hasmonean Palace where I left Joanna....” -She paused, breathing hard. “Mistress”—her face flamed with new -excitement—“Jesus is _alive_! He’s come from the tomb alive! He did it, -Mistress! He really did it!” - -“Sit down, Tullia,” she said calmly. “You’re excited, little one. Calm -yourself. Longinus told me that the Galilean was not in a trance; he -said he knew he was dead; he said....” - -“He was dead, Mistress, I know. But _now_ he’s alive again! He’s -_alive_, Mistress, _alive_!” - -Claudia shook her head dubiously. “I don’t doubt that you think so, but -when a man’s dead....” She paused. “And you’ve been under such tension, -so troubled....” - -“But I’m no longer troubled, Mistress,” Tullia said calmly. “Nor have I -lost my reason. He _is_ alive. Mary of Magdala talked with him at the -tomb. We’ve just come from there, Mistress.” - -“But where were Cornelius and his soldiers? Surely they didn’t all go to -sleep and let the Galilean’s friends....” - -“They had gone,” the maid answered. “But nobody stole the body, -Mistress. Jesus walked away. He told Mary to tell those of his company -that he would meet them down in Galilee.” - -“Then Cornelius and his guards weren’t at the tomb when the Galilean -walked from it, Tullia?” Longinus, adjusting his tunic, came through the -doorway. - -“Oh, no, Centurion, I meant they were gone when we got there. But they -had left only a few minutes before. In fact, we met them coming in -through the city gate as we were going out. I recognized Centurion -Cornelius, although I don’t think he noticed me. He seemed greatly -disturbed.” - -“Then, by the gods, Claudia, I must go find him. This is amazing. -Tullia, by great Jupiter, do you know what you’re saying? Do you realize -that you are saying a dead man....?” - -His question was interrupted by a knocking on the corridor door. Quickly -Tullia opened it. A palace servant announced that Centurion Cornelius -was trying to find Centurion Longinus. - -“Tell him to come in,” Claudia had overheard. “The Centurion Longinus is -here.” - -“I’ve been trying since daylight to locate you, Longinus,” he reported. -“I went to your quarters, but I should have known....” He didn’t finish -the observation. “Something very strange has happened. The Galilean -disappeared from his tomb.” - -“So Tullia has just told us,” Longinus said. “She contends that he came -to life and simply walked out.” His eyes narrowed. “By the gods, -Cornelius, did your guards go to sleep and allow his friends to slip in -and...?” - -“No, Longinus, we weren’t asleep.” He shook his head slowly. “Nobody was -asleep. I can’t understand it. I had stationed my men so that no one -could slip past us to get to the tomb. And that heavy stone ... -Longinus, it had to be rolled uphill on its track, and that requires the -hard work of at least two or three strong men.” His forehead wrinkled in -a puzzled frown. - -“Well, then,” Longinus pursued, “what _did_ happen?” - -“That’s what I don’t know. Nothing happened. At least, I saw and heard -nothing. I asked the men later if any of them had, and they all -insisted, to a man, that they hadn’t heard a sound or seen anything the -least bit unusual. Only a moment before I had checked the tomb’s mouth. -The seal hadn’t been disturbed. And there was a dim light from a little -fire we had kindled earlier to keep off the night chill; it had burned -down, but there was still a light on the stone at the mouth. In fact, -that’s how we noticed....” - -“The Galilean?” - -“Oh, no, we didn’t see him. But one moment the stone was in place, and -the next ... well, I looked over there, and it had been rolled up the -track and the mouth was wide-open.” - -“What did you do then?” - -“I lighted a torch from the smoldering fire and investigated. The -Galilean was gone, disappeared. The linen strips with which the body had -been wrapped were lying there, still in folds but collapsed, just as -though the body they had been enfolding had melted away.” He shook his -head, gestured with palms up. “Longinus, I can’t figure it any other -way.” - -“You mean you actually believe he returned to life?” - -“What else can I believe?” - -“But what about the stone? How could he have rolled it back?” - -“If he had the power to call back his life,” Cornelius said, “rolling -away the stone would surely have been no problem.” - -“But, Cornelius,” Claudia interposed, “Tullia, too, has just come from -the tomb. She was there with Mary of Magdala and Joanna and some other -followers of the Galilean.” - -“I didn’t see them....” - -“They got there just after you left. They saw you at the city gate as -you were coming away, she said. But Mary of Magdala saw the Galilean and -talked with him.” She shrugged. “Or at any rate that’s what she told -Tullia.” - -The centurion’s amazement was not feigned. “Then where did he go? Where -is he now?” - -“According to Tullia, he told Mary that he was going down to Galilee. He -said he would meet his band there.” - -“Then we may come upon him somewhere, beside the sea with the fishermen -or maybe in Capernaum.” - -“But, Cornelius”—Claudia’s expression betrayed a sudden -apprehension—“how would he receive Longinus?” - -“In a spirit of forgiveness, I hope ... and believe. It was really not -Longinus who did it. The guilt was Herod’s and Pilate’s ... and, of -course, even more, the High Priest’s.” - -“Cornelius, does Pilate know ... about the empty tomb, I mean?” - -“Yes, Claudia. I reported to him first, before I started to look for -Longinus. He was still in his bedchamber.” - -“What did he say? How did he act?” - -“At first he was angry; he charged that the guards had gone to sleep, -said the High Priest would be greatly agitated, and threatened to punish -us severely. But when I stood my ground and insisted that no one had -stolen the body, he began to show concern, and when I left him he was -thoroughly frightened.” He turned to Longinus. “That’s why I want to get -started as quickly as possible for Tiberias, before Pilate orders my -century to remain in Jerusalem to help protect him from the Galilean. -Can you be ready to start by midday?” - -Longinus nodded. “Yes. I’m already packed. All I have to do is pick up -my bags at Antonia.” - - - - - 58 - - -When Cornelius left the Palace of the Herods, Claudia and Longinus -walked out into the garden and sat on the stone bench before the -fountain. Already the sun was high in the cloudless heavens and the air -was growing warm. Birds chattered in the trees and shrubs, and as they -watched the spurting water, two small conies skittered across a circle -of sunlight to dark safety beneath a heavily leaved fig bush. - -“A glorious day.” - -“Yes.” He tossed a twig toward the fountain. “You know, Claudia”—he was -looking, she saw, at some invisible point beyond the trembling column of -water—“a hundred years from now the world may still remember this day, -if....” - -“If the Galilean really has come to life?” she finished softly. “What do -you think about it, Longinus? Cornelius and Tullia seemed so certain he -has.” - -The centurion shook his head slowly, his eyes still on the lifting and -falling water. “I don’t know what to think. But”—he turned to face her, -and his forehead was furrowed in concentration—“how else can you explain -it? The guards awake, the heavy stone sealing the tomb. By all the -gods....” - -“Are you afraid then?” - -For a long moment he was silent. “No,” he answered finally, “I’m not -afraid. But I’m ... I’m ashamed, Claudia; I’m ashamed for myself, -Pilate, Herod, the contemptible High Priest, my quaternion, everybody -who had anything at all to do with this terrible thing. If indeed he did -come back to life, I hope I may see him in Galilee and beg his -forgiveness.” - -“But what about Pilate? Do you think the Galilean will seek vengeance on -him? And on the High Priest, and even Antipas?” - -“Up there on the hill as we were nailing him to the crossbeam, that man -prayed to his god to forgive us ... to forgive us, Claudia. Didn’t he -mean _all_ his enemies?” Longinus stood up and walked to the fountain; -he held his palm against the upshooting column. “A few days ago I was -scoffing at him and even at the very idea of gods, any god, or spirit -being, or whatever you may call it”—he smiled glumly—“and so were you, -my dear. But since day before yesterday”—he shrugged—“and this morning, -well, I’m ... I’m changed. You know, I’ve been thinking about what -Cornelius’ old Greek tutor taught and how it might fit in with the Jews’ -notion of their Yahweh. And now, if the Galilean really has taken on -life again—and I _know_ he was _dead_ when we took him down—it may be -that he really was ... is ... a physical, tangible manifestation of this -all-wise and all-powerful spirit....” Abruptly he broke off. “Oh, I -don’t know, Claudia, it’s too deep for me. But I do know”—his smile was -warm—“if there’s ever another testing, I’ll be on _his_ side then.” - -He strode over to the bench and helped her to her feet, and they -returned to her apartment where no other eyes could invade the privacy -of their last moments together. - -“Has this morning changed things for us, beloved?” she asked, as they -sat on her couch. “Your plans, in Rome, I mean, do you still intend to -do what you were telling me last night?” - -“Of course, my dearest. And it won’t be long before we’ll have a new -Emperor _or_ a new Prefect. And in either case there’ll be a new -Procurator in Judaea and”—he smiled playfully—“a new husband for the -present Procurator’s wife. It’s even possible,” he added with a studied -air, “that the present Procurator’s wife will be the wife of the new -Procurator.” - -“But, Longinus, you wouldn’t want to be Procurator in this dreary -province....” - -“No,” he broke in, “but if the present Procurator’s wife went with the -assignment”—he shrugged—“I believe I could endure it.” Then he was -serious. “Before the summer is ended, Claudia, I firmly believe that -Tiberius or Sejanus will be dead—and little I care which—or both of them -even, and there’ll be a new regime at Rome. By then, and maybe earlier, -Pilate will have been banished to Gaul or Britannia or some other remote -province, and you and I will be together ... maybe living out at Baiae.” - -“Oh, Longinus, I hope so, I do hope so.” She clung to him tightly, for -in a few minutes, she knew, he would be leaving her to join Cornelius -for the journey down into Galilee. “Already it has been so long, and I -am utterly weary of waiting. May the beneficent gods grant you swift -sailing and an early safe return.” - -With an arm about her waist he lifted her to her toes. “But there are no -gods, remember?” Teasingly, he pushed her chin until her eager lips -parted, and then hungrily he bent once again to savor them. - - - - - 59 - - -Longinus and the orderly carrying his luggage had almost reached the -foot of the Antonia stairway when a soldier came hurrying down the steps -behind them. The Procurator Pontius Pilate, the soldier announced, -wished to speak immediately with the centurion. - -“Take the bags to the pack train,” Longinus instructed his man, “and -tell Centurion Cornelius I’ll be there as quickly as the Procurator -dismisses me.” Then he went at once to the Procurator’s chamber. - -Pontius Pilate was standing before the window, staring in the direction -of the forlorn and frightful Hill of the Skull. When he heard the -centurion, he turned quickly and advanced toward the center of the -chamber. “Have a seat, Centurion,” he said, as he pointed to a chair -across the desk from his own. “I’ll detain you only a moment.” His round -face lighted with an unctuous smile as he sat down heavily. “You’ll soon -be leaving Jerusalem, no doubt?” - -“Yes, Excellency. I was on my way, in fact, when your aide overtook me.” - -“It occurred to me, though I haven’t seen her since we three were here -two days ago, that Lady Claudia might like to ride with you as far as -Caesarea. She is weary of Jerusalem, I know, but I’ll not be able to -leave here for several days. And at Caesarea you two could enjoy one -another’s company until your ship sails for Rome.” - -“But I’m not going to Caesarea, Excellency. I’m going to accompany -Centurion Cornelius down into Galilee, and from there I’ll cross to -Ptolemaïs and get a vessel for Rome.” - -“Oh. Well, then, yes.” Pilate’s honeyed smile vanished, and he licked -his lips. “I thought you two would welcome an opportunity....” But he -did not pursue the thought further. He leaned forward, elbows on desk. -“Centurion, this ‘matter of utmost concern’ that takes you to Rome, I -wonder if....” - -“You read the Prefect’s message,” Longinus said, when the Procurator -paused. “And of course, Excellency, I’ve had no further communication -from him.” - -“The Prefect must be calling you to Rome to discuss the situation out -here, Longinus. It would hardly be anything in Rome that he’s concerned -about, because you wouldn’t be familiar with affairs there. I’ve been -trying to think what it could be that commands his attention here.” -Pilate’s expression was grim now, his shallow suavity gone. “It must be -that he’s dissatisfied with my governing, or even”—he swallowed, and his -face was somber—“that he’s planning to remove me as Procurator and -extend Herod’s domain to include Judaea, with that incompetent weasel as -king over the entire realm his father ruled.” He paused, his expression -questioning. “Herodias’ scheming, I’ll wager.” - -“I can’t say, Excellency”—Longinus shook his head—“what the Prefect may -be planning for any of us.” - -“Us? By all the gods, Longinus, I hadn’t thought that his plans might -concern you, too!” His expression suddenly brightened. “Why, that’s it, -great Jupiter, that would solve the dilemma!” - -“But, Excellency, I don’t....” - -“I beg you then, Centurion, in your report to the Prefect to deal -charitably....” - -“But, what....?” - -“Petition him to transfer me, with comparable position and emoluments, -to some other post, Gaul, Spain, Alexandria maybe, even Rome, and name -you Procurator of Judaea, Longinus.” The unctuous smile, patently -contrived, momentarily relieved his grimness. “And then, though the -Prefect and the Emperor might not permit Lady Claudia to go with me to a -new post, particularly if it should be at Rome or near the capital, I’m -sure they would permit her to divorce me and marry you.” - -“But the day the Galilean died”—the discipline of long training kept -Longinus’ tone level, even though his fist ached to be smashed against -the stupidly grinning round face—“you appeared to be most anxious to -retain your post here.” - -The mere mention of the Galilean made violence unnecessary; the -Procurator’s mask of laughter was instantly ripped away, and the terror -beneath it now lay exposed. “Yes, Centurion,” he began, “but since then -I ... I....” He threw out both hands as if in desperation. “I’ve had no -peace! It’s these insufferable Jews, Centurion. And the arrogant, -demanding, conniving High Priest, may the great Pluto grill him to -cinders! I must get away from these Jews before they drive me mad, -Longinus.” He stood up and glanced toward the window, then shuddered and -quickly turned away. “That Galilean, the one you crucified....” - -“The one you condemned to the cross, Excellency.” - -“Yes, the one _I_ condemned.” Pilate seemed suddenly very weary. “I -thought I’d purchase immunity by involving you. But I was thinking of -the High Priest on the one hand and the Prefect on the other. I never -thought of _him_. And now, now I can’t get away from him. I can’t sleep, -Centurion. He’s always there between me and sleep, his calm face -confronting me, his dark eyes studying me. It’s as though _he_ were -trying _me_! I ... I can’t get away from him, Longinus. He’ll haunt me -as long as I remain in this abominable province.” He leaned on the desk -with fists clenched. “Nor will they let him lie in his tomb and be -forgotten. Have you heard the foolish rumor”—his eyes narrowed as he -hesitated, and then he leaned nearer the centurion—“that the Galilean -has walked from his tomb and is on his way to Galilee?” - -“Yes, Excellency, Cornelius told me the man had disappeared under the -noses of his guardsmen.” - -“So he told me. But of course the guards were asleep. And since -Cornelius reported the man’s disappearance, I’ve been told some of the -guards were bribed by Caiaphas—Pluto take him—to say that they permitted -certain of his followers to steal the body to make it appear that he had -come to life, as they claimed he would.” He shook his forefinger to -emphasize his venom. “That arrogant Jew never relents in his efforts to -embarrass me and undermine my administration of Judaea’s government.” - -“But, Excellency, the body _wasn’t stolen_. Cornelius assured me they -were all wide-awake. And there was that heavy stone sealing the -mouth....” - -“By great Jupiter, Longinus”—Pilate sank to his chair, and his eyes were -incredulous—“surely you don’t believe he had supernatural power to -restore himself to life and roll back the stone?” He sat back; his eyes -were fixed unseeing, it seemed, on the wall beyond and above the -centurion’s head. “He said that his kingdom was not of this world. He -said that were he to command it, a host of his followers”—he paused, and -his eyes, intent and fearful, sought the centurion’s—“unearthly -followers, Longinus, spirits, demons....” Quickly he leaned forward. -“Could he have been in a trance after all? Could you have failed to take -his life?” - -“He was dead, Procurator; I assure you he was dead when we put him in -the tomb.” Longinus leaned nearer his questioner. “But we didn’t _take_ -his life. When he was ready to die, he _surrendered_ it.” - -“Centurion, do you realize what you’re saying?” A sickly smile played at -the corners of his mouth, and his usually florid face was the shade of -ashes. He braced his hands, palms down, on the desk’s gleaming surface. -“By great Jupiter, Longinus, do you believe the Galilean really did -return to life, that he’s _alive now_?” - -“Excellency”—Longinus looked the Procurator straight in the eyes—“what -other explanation could I offer?” - -Pilate opened his mouth, but no answer came. Instead, with the tip of -his thick tongue he circled his dry lips, and a heavy sigh stirred his -ponderous frame. “I should have had the courage to resist the High -Priest and release the man,” he observed, more to himself than to the -centurion across the desk from him. “But I condemned him. Then I tried -to cleanse these hands”—he turned them over and, palms up, studied -them—“of his guiltless blood. I _could_ have freed him.” He glanced -toward the window but quickly turned back to face Longinus. “Centurion, -do you suppose”—perspiration was beading on the Procurator’s plainly -frightened face—“he will be coming back soon from Galilee ... to -Jerusalem, the Temple, to _Antonia_? By great Jupiter, Longinus”—he did -not pause for the centurion’s reply—“help me escape him! Urge the -Prefect to transfer me, send me to some post across the world from this -frightful Judaea, to Gaul, Germania, even, by the gods, to Britannia!” -His eyes were wild, his hands on the desk were shaking, and he clenched -them into white-knuckled fists. “Tell him to give you Claudia; she’s -been yours anyway all along.” He attempted a feeble smile. “But I ... I -mustn’t keep you. Centurion Cornelius will be awaiting you, Longinus. -Go, and the gods give you good winds.” His voice had calmed. “And I beg -you, Centurion, say a good word to the Prefect.” - -Longinus nodded and quietly left the chamber. As the door closed gently -behind him, Pilate sat motionless, frozen in his chair. But some moments -later, hearing the commotion in the courtyard below, he went to the -window and watched the century, with Cornelius and Longinus leading the -column and the pack animals at the rear, until it disappeared around the -bend of the narrow street. Then as he raised his eyes from the -cobblestones to the huddled houses beyond the Damascus Gate, a sudden -sharp glint of sunshine was reflected to them from a white-painted -titulus board nailed to a heavy timber thrusting upward from a forlorn -scarred mound on the other side of the city wall. - -“No! No!” Pilate whirled about hands before his eyes as though the flash -of sunlight had blinded him. “Flavius! Flavius!” - -The startled attendant rushed in. “Yes, Excellency?” he asked. - -“Go find the commander of Antonia and tell him I want every cross -upright out there on the Hill of the Skull pulled down, and by great -Jupiter, I want it done now!” Breathing heavily, Pilate sat again at his -desk. “Wait. Before you go, draw those draperies. I’m sick of the -sight.” Flavius went to the window and busied himself with the curtains, -but when he had pulled one, he discovered that he could not draw the -other all the way until the bronze stand and wine-colored vase on it had -been moved. Quickly he shifted them to the western window a few paces -away and almost directly behind the Procurator. - -As he did so he saw that the sun shining through the vase shot straight -outward from the delicate glass a band of red light that crossed the -floor, climbed the back of Pilate’s chair, and went obliquely over his -shoulder to split evenly the polished surface of the desk. Flavius -turned back to the first window and pulled the curtains together, so -that not even a sliver of sunshine came through. Then he came around in -front of the Procurator. But Pilate said nothing, and Flavius withdrew -quietly, closing the door behind him. - -The Procurator leaned back in his chair; his arms were folded across his -middle, and his eyes appeared fixed upon a spot above the door. But -Pilate was not seeing the ornate panels; his eyes were being held -instead in the calm and untroubled gaze of another pair of eyes.... - -Suddenly he shook his head, vigorously, as though to rid himself of this -haunting vision. “What’s this?” he said aloud. “The man’s dead. Of -course the guards dozed. Gods-come-to-earth, spirits, demons. Woman -dreaming. Jewish fanaticism. Bah! Cornelius and Longinus wished to -confuse and frighten me.” - -_... Even if he did walk from the tomb, he can cross no seas to haunt me -with pitying sad eyes. In Gaul or Germania, anywhere but in this -despicable land, I’ll be free of him. I’ll have escaped him. By great -Jupiter, I, afraid of a Galilean carpenter. Imagine, I, a Roman soldier, -I, by the gods, Procurator of Judaea...._ - -“I’ll have an end to this foolishness, this child’s business,” he said -loudly. He sat up straight. “The other day I washed my hands of that -man’s death. Today, this moment, I wash them of _him_, his circlet of -thorns, his slashed back, his searching eyes, his blood, by the gods of -Rome. I’m free of him, do you hear?” - -_... And I’m not afraid to look through that window at his hill of -death...._ - -“Flavius!” he shouted. “Come draw aside the draperies. I want to see -outside.” - -He lifted his hands to the desk and, leaning forward, began to rise. - -_... By great Jupiter, I’ll go look out the window now. I’ve purged -myself of the Galilean; I’ve washed my hands of that man...._ - -He glanced downward. - -Flavius, entering the chamber in response to Pilate’s summons, halted -abruptly. Procurator Pontius Pilate, ruler of Judaea, his eyes wide with -terror, stood rigid in his tracks, staring at his hands. - -From wrists to fingertips, in the fiery beam from the window, they -flamed a gory crimson. - -[Illustration: Ever since the publication of his best-selling novels, -_Bold Galilean_ and _The Tree of Judas_, the name of LeGette Blythe has -been synonymous with the finest in historical fiction. Hear Me, Pilate! -demonstrates once again his amazing ability to recreate scenes from the -past with drama and authenticity. Mr. Blythe is a graduate of the -University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, is married, and has three -children.] - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes - - ---Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public - domain in the country of publication. - ---Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and - dialect unchanged. - ---In the text versions, delimited italicized text by _underscores_. - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Hear Me, Pilate!, by William LeGette Blythe - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEAR ME, PILATE! *** - -***** This file should be named 52650-0.txt or 52650-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/6/5/52650/ - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan, Ron Box and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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