“Operative word, ‘conveniently.’ It won’t happen, as you know. Now, would you like me to tell you what the wife of your wished-for suicide had to say?”
Gamaliel gave a vague wave of his hand and nodded.
“She did remember the exchange between her husband and the legionnaire. She seemed certain he was one of those permanently garrisoned in the Fortress. She said she thought that because they were all shabby in dress and decorum as opposed to those assigned to Caesarea Maritima who are much smarter in appearance and clearly more disciplined. But then when they, in turn, were compared to the soldiers accompanying the delegation from Rome, they came off as beggars. The soldiers with the visiting delegation, she declared, looked like they could be the offspring produced from an erotic encounter by one of their gods with women—beautiful Roman women, to be precise. I saw one or two of them and she’s correct. They are eerily handsome in a Greek god sort of way. You could cover them with white powder and pass them off as statues in a pantheon.”
“Fascinating. So, the messenger came from within the fort. That is useful, but at the moment, gives us nothing.”
“It is another piece surely. Anyway, returning to your dilemma, have you considered leaving the city for a while—hiding out in the wilderness or seeking asylum at someplace like Qumran?”
“I am too old to survive the wilderness, and although I get along with the men at Qumran, I do so only from a distance. One afternoon’s disputation with those people and I could add them to the ‘men who would gladly see me dead list.’”
“You need to spend time developing skills at getting along with others.”
“Yes, well, some other day. For now, we concentrate on the matter at hand. I need you to ask her another question. Pilate reported that his wife may have seen a strange woman in their quarters the day of the murder. He dismissed it and she recanted subsequently, but I would like her to tell her side of the story. I do not think the Prefect takes her seriously in matters he considers mundane.”
“Querying her further will be a problem.”
“How so?”
“The room where I ‘examined’ her was not empty. She kept glancing at one woman in particular. Rufus told me afterward that the woman in question was part of the visitor’s entourage and had been sent to spy on her. I had difficulty getting the few bits and pieces of information that I did.”
“She does not wish to be interviewed again?”
“I wouldn’t say that. She wants to help her husband, but does not want the interview to occur where she might be overheard. She thinks…she is sure that there are watchers and listeners assigned to her.”
“If I were the visitors sent to spy on Pilate, I would not leave her out of the equation either, whether he is involved in a murder or not. She is an important personage, irrespective of her husband’s current status, and she will not be allowed to venture out unchaperoned.”
“Perhaps she will want to visit one of their temples, one reserved for women.”
“Fine, but then how will you approach her, or will I?”
“Neither. We will recruit a woman to ask the questions of her in our stead.”
“A woman? Who? I do not know many women whom I could entrust with such a mission—or any other to be truthful.”
“What about Sarai.”
“Who?”
“My servant, Yakob’s wife. Sarai is not stupid and she is one of us, so to speak. More importantly, while she is faithful and moderately orthodox…don’t look at me that way…she would be willing to enter a pagan Temple if you would provide an excuse, a dispensation.”
“It is a thought, Loukas. First we must get a message to the Prefect’s wife. That may not be so easy, and then she may not wish to be questioned again under any circumstances. She struck me as a skittish person.”
“We can try.”
“Yes. I am tired, my friend. I wish to go home and contemplate all the sins I must have committed that landed me in this morass. You talk to Sarai and see if she is willing to serve as our agent. We will meet again at the seventh hour and tackle the Prefect once more.”
“And importune the wife?”
“Yes, that too. By the way, do you notice anything unusual about the boy, Marius?”
“Unusual? Only that he is rather tall to be still unbearded, but he may come from one of those places that breed giants. I doubt it was Gaul, though.”
“No, not Gaul. The accent is all wrong. You think him a budding Nephilim? Precocious or retarded, it is hard to tell which, but no, I do not believe he possesses a gigantic future. Very well, until later, may Ha Shem be with you, Loukas.”
“And with you, also.”
Chapter XIX
Gamaliel met Loukas on the Mount several hours later. His immediate return to the Prefect’s murky lair was momentarily diverted by an irate and very red in the face Caiaphas, who bore down on him like a trireme whose drummer beat an attack cadence.
“Rabban, it is too much. Now you must act. This time he has done us in.”
“Who has done what to whom, High Priest? You did say us?”
“The Rabbi Yeshua ben Josef. We are in very deep trouble.”
“I dispute the ‘we’ and what exactly has he done now that has you so exercised, High Priest?”
“What? He has made a mockery of the Prefect’s very person, that’s what.”
Gamaliel closed his eyes and prayed for patience. “How is that a problem? And who hasn’t mocked the Prefect or at least thought to? I say good for him. The Prefect is and will always be the object of scorn, mockery, and derision as long as he and his band of bullies remain in our country. So what exactly has Yeshua ben Josef done that you believe will result in the downfall of the Nation?”
Using all the detail he had been told, Caiaphas took a deep breath and described how Yeshua had summoned his followers and directed them to fetch a donkey tethered to a ring in the wall a few paces from the path leading down from the Mount of Olives, how the spectators had cheered him along as he descended the path toward the Temple and through the Golden Gate.
“And all this concerns you how, High Priest?”
“I know the power of Rome firsthand. They are not a light-hearted race. They do not possess a sense of humor when it comes to ridicule and, whether Yeshua intended it or not, they would take it as such. That means trouble, my friend. Now do you understand?”
“What is to understand? I suppose some of them recognized the procession, meager as it was, as a thing they had witnessed elsewhere.”
“Many who witnessed this foolishness laughed. They assumed this Yeshua was putting on a show for them, creating a bit of theater, a comedy, and making fun of the Roman Prefect.”
“Let us hope that was all he had in mind. To do otherwise raises larger questions about his ambitions as a leader, but that would be of no interest to our Roman oppressors. Anyway, we do not often get a chance to laugh at imperial power, High Priest. My friend Loukas, here, might even call it therapeutic. If I were a local Roman official, I would turn a blind eye to this. Anything that brings a smile to the oppressed should be encouraged. Their playwrights do it all the time.”
“Nonsense. Many may have laughed because they saw something they thought was simply ridiculous. A great, tall man sitting on a colt, knees all tucked up and riding down the hill. For them, it was a charade, a farce.”
“But you suppose it will rile the Prefect to anger, and he will punish us all for the folly of a few?”
“Did you not hear? ‘Hosanna,’ they cried. ‘Hosanna in the highest,’ Rabban. Don’t you see?”
“No, I do not see. No one will topple an empire with a dumb-show like that. Surely you don’t think anything serious will come of it.”
“He made a parody of the Prefect’s entrance that those pilgrims witnessed earlier. Yeshua is no fool. If he did this thing, he did it for a reason.”
“I am pleased that you now acknowledge that the man is no fool. I hope you will soon see that he po
ses no threat to the Nation either. I have said it before and I repeat it now, drop this peculiar vendetta and leave him be. This business had to do with a claim to be messiah, not to ridicule Rome. Since we know he is not the Messiah, I predict that in a season, a year at the outside, he and his minyan will dry up and blow away like chaff on the threshing floor. The more you pursue him, the greater his reputation grows. I warned you before, if you are not careful, you will make a martyr of the man. Trust me, you do not want to do that. Besides, I know for a fact that the Prefect is currently too occupied with other matters to be bothered by a bit of foolishness on the hillsides.”
“I know the power of Rome where you do not. They exile their poets and their critics and those who satirize them. Whether Yeshua intended to ridicule them or not, they will take offense. That means trouble. What thing preoccupies the Prefect?”
“I am sorry, but I cannot elaborate. Caiaphas, if the Prefect has heard of this at all, he has dismissed it, although, I cannot say the same about some of the others currently occupying the Fortress. With them, you may have a point. I will see what I can find out on that score. Either way, it is too late to do anything about it. He has put on his show for whatever reason and it cannot be taken back. The best plan, it seems to me, would be to pretend it never happened. After all, do these pilgrims have the government’s ear? Will they report it? Do the Romans solicit their views on anything? Would a person traveling here for Passover take the time to wander into the Praetorium and describe this event and its implications? You know they will not. Let it go, High Priest. Let it go.”
Gamaliel watched as Caiaphas spun on his heel and marched away, his face a shade redder than it had been when he first confronted him. He assumed the High Priest would take his less than enthusiastic support back to his allies in the Sanhedrin. He shook his head and motioned to Loukas to come along. It was past the ninth hour and time drew short.
Loukas turned and stepped off with Gamaliel. “The High Priest is obsessed with that rabbi. Why do you think it is so?”
“Alas, he is not alone. At first, this preoccupation was exclusively Caiaphas’. Lately, I am hearing from others who have been brought into it. It is regrettable. There is so much more that needs our attention, but there seems no end to the need the High Priest and his supporters have to persecute this man. I cannot figure out the why of their intensity. Obviously, the cause is not easy to tease out of the rhetoric, but it seems to pivot around the nature of this city and its inhabitants. In the cities you like to throw in my face, Alexandria and so on, Rabbi Yeshua and his view of the Law would not pose a problem, but this is the Holy City, the City of David. Here we are rigid and unbending in what we take to be the ‘way.’ Outside these walls, as you have often lectured, the Faith is more flexible and accommodating. But here the teaching of Yeshua ben Josef, taken at its face value, supports similar ideas. As such, they feel threatened. For them and for me, I have to add, if I am to be honest, it worries us. This parade he created on the Mount of Olives, for example, could be interpreted as a declaration of his messiahship, a fulfillment of prophesy. What will the Lord do when his people, the people he chose above all others, stray too far from the path He has laid out for us? Think of Moses in the wilderness for forty years. Forty years to reach the land promised to them because the people he delivered out of Pharaoh’s hand wanted a more comfortable deity.”
“Ha Shem does not change his mind? He can’t, say, alter the rules here and there?”
“No.”
“Pity.”
Chapter XX
The two men turned and made their way toward the Antonia Fortress, neither with enthusiasm and both with trepidation. Loukas broke into Gamaliel’s thoughts.
“She will not do it, she says.”
“Who will not do what?”
“Sarai. She will not be our agent to question Procula. She refuses to enter a pagan Temple. I tried to explain the importance of the task, but all she could do was purse her lips and mutter darkly about how ‘the Rabban of the Sanhedrin could sanction such an unholy and dangerous act.’”
“She said that? She’s right, how could I? I would not do it, why should she?”
“Would not the Lord understand that a small transgression in the pursuit of a greater good is more than justified and forgive her?”
“I do not like being put in the position of abandoning my principles on the altar of expediency and, apparently, neither does she. It was wrong to ask. It is enough that I have to find ways to salvage the reputation of a man who on his best days can only be described as misguided—”
“Misguided? Surely you are playing the fool. He is, on those best days of which you speak, a brutal, conniving—”
“Enough. Vituperation will earn us nothing. We must push on. I do need to hear about the Prefect’s wife’s thoughts on the strange woman.”
“But why? Didn’t she say she’d turned the whole matter over in her mind and now she recognizes the woman?”
“She did.”
“And you are still not satisfied?”
“I am not, and before you ask why, I don’t know. It just smacks of…it’s odd, that’s all. And it’s important that I find out why she changed her mind.”
“You will be the death of me, Rabban.”
“Quite possibly.”
They made their way into the Fortress without the aid of Marius who, once dismissed, seemed to have permanently disappeared. Pilate stood when they entered. His face fell when he recognized Gamaliel and Loukas.
“Oh, it’s you. Where is Marius? How did you get in here?”
“Answering your questions in reverse order, we walked in following the path I finally memorized. As for the boy, I don’t know. Who were you expecting just now?”
“What makes you think I was expecting someone?”
“Well, you stood as we entered. In all the time we have known one another, you have never risen at my appearance. It is not something you do for any but your Roman equals or betters. I am flattered, by the way. Also, your expression registered a noticeable level of disappointment when you saw who we were.”
“Very well, I was expecting someone else.”
“May I inquire who?”
“No, you may not. The boy, he was instructed to never leave your side.”
“Well, I sent him away earlier, and now it seems he has decided to stay away. Prefect, we have discerned his real purpose for being assigned to us and we have not said nor will we say anything that, reported back to you, would be useful. I assume he reports to you. If he has other ears to fill, they will learn nothing of importance either. So, we do not need or want him anymore.”
“I see. Nevertheless, I will have him with you. I will send a guard or two to find him.”
“You trust him then not to be in contact with others—people whose interests do not coincide with yours?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He is a slave. If he is caught selling his loyalty, he will die. He knows that, and so he would not dare.”
“As you wish. I have a more pressing problem to discuss. It is very important we put some questions to your wife again. Our thought of having one of our women meet her in the Athena Temple has fallen through.”
“The Temple of Athena? I was not aware she had any plans to go there, so that will not be a problem. Why did you want her to go there? She wouldn’t have agreed to go in any case. Tomorrow is her day for the horses.”
“Horses?”
“The hippodrome, Rabban, she is a great admirer of the race horses. Not the races, mind you, she thinks they are a form of cruelty to the animals, but she loves the beasts themselves. When she is near a hippodrome, she invariably marches off to the stables to visit her four-legged friends with tidbits to feed them. This week the chariots and the courses will be idle in honor of your Passover. There will be no races. Tomorrow she will go and chat with the horses. She talks to them. Don’t ask me what about or if they answer. I have never had the courage to ask.”
�
��Does she have a favorite?”
“Yes, Pegasus. That is the name of a horse our gods—”
“I know what Pegasus is.”
“You do? I didn’t think you were allowed to read any theology save your own.”
“You would be surprised at what I read. So, let me get this straight. Tomorrow she will travel to the stables at the hippodrome to talk to the horses.”
“Exactly.”
“And Pegasus will certainly be one she will spend some time with.”
“Yes.”
“Loukas, tomorrow we should acquaint ourselves with the horses in the hippodrome’s stables.”
“She will be watched. If you approach her, they will know and she will have to answer for it,” Pilate said.
“How good are you with horses, Loukas.”
“They terrify me.”
“Truly?”
“Equinophobia, Rabban. Since I was kicked and had a leg broken as a child, I do not willingly spend any time with them nor do I allow myself to even approach them. Why do you ask?”
“We are going to the stables. I had hoped you could hide in the stall of the famous Pegasus and when the good lady made her visit, you could ask her a few questions without being seen by her watchers.”
“Rabban, I will accompany you to the stables, but the instant one of them exits his stall, I will be on the move. If anyone is to hide in the stalls, it will have to be you.”
“You might use the boy,” Pilate said.
“But it appears he has vanished, and besides that, I don’t think I would trust him with the task. The other problem with the boy is he is as recognizable as I. No, it will have to be me. Tomorrow we will sally forth to the stables early. When will your wife make her pilgrimage?”
“Midday.”
“Fine. Tell her it is important she spend some time with Pegasus. Now that is all we can do today. I would love to interview your guests, but I suppose that is out of the question. Can you ask Rufus to make a few discreet inquiries with them? I would dearly like to know why and how Cassia knew to come to the basement precisely when he did. I would like to know what business this mysterious Tribune has in the city. And, if he can cut their purse, so to speak, I would like to know where they were in the hours prior to and after the banquet.”
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