Woman of Sin

by Debra Diaz

  An unexpected storm had spoiled Megara’s grand entrance, for her slaves were now wet and bedraggled and her canopy was sodden and drooping. The dampness had even found its way inside the litter and her hair had fallen as limp as her clothes. Paulus’ uniform had been soaked but his hair was almost dry, and he hadn’t minded the rain since it had cooled the air considerably.

  He dismounted from his horse and handed the reins to a servant. He helped his wife emerge from her litter and restrained a smile at her puffed lips and glowering eyes. As they entered the courtyard they were greeted by a rush of dignitaries and staff.

  Megara said in a low voice only he could hear, “I am afraid this city has a most unpleasant odor.”

  “It’s an affliction common to large cities—Rome especially, if you’d ever been away and then returned. You might as well smooth out that patrician nose of yours. Besides, you can’t deny that some of these buildings overshadow anything we have in Rome.”

  Megara answered him with a glare. He treated her like a child. He had changed. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what was different, but she was convinced it had something to do with that Greek slave who had drowned.

  He, of course, had told her nothing, but Megara had very efficient spies. She knew that, after Alysia had murdered Magnus, Paulus had spirited her away on a ship that had sunk somewhere between Crete and Cyprus. Where once he had been merely quiet and reserved, he had become taciturn and brooding. Except when he was conversing with that Cyrenian slave, Simon, to whom she had taken an active dislike. Paulus never knew how to put slaves in their place.

  Their entourage stopped in one of the great halls of the palace, and after seeing that Megara was ushered off to her apartments, Paulus took his leave before Herod Antipas himself made an appearance. He would meet the tetrarch soon enough and as usual had no patience for political posturing.

  On horseback and accompanied by the legionaries, he turned back toward the Antonia, built by Herod the Great and fawningly named after the Roman general, Mark Antony. The fort was highly visible even from several blocks away, so tall and formidable looking that it appeared to be one single tower, though each of three corners boasted its own tower, while the fourth—overlooking the Temple area—reared up higher than all.

  A huge ramp spanned a ravine on the west side, which was the main entrance to the fortress. Paulus went up first, accompanied by twelve rows of legionaries marching four abreast. These men would stay overnight, then return to Caesarea. There were six thousand men stationed here, now under Paulus’ authority. During the periods of Jewish festivals there was ample room to host hundreds more, who came from Caesarea and other forts to “enforce” the peace.

  He entered the main courtyard, noting the bridge as well as a set of stairs that connected the fort to the Temple. He went through a wooden doorway, up another, much narrower ramp, to the area above. It looked like a small city.

  Along each wall were the soldiers’ barracks; there were residences for visitors, baths, a parade ground, a temple, the judgment hall where criminals were brought (and its whipping post), and in the midst stood the praetorium, almost a small palace. Paulus knew that underneath the fort were dungeons to house prisoners; there was also, somewhere underneath, a secret passage connecting the fort with the interior of the Temple. All around were trees growing in pots, well-tended shrubbery and statues of Roman athletes.

  Immediately a servant took his horse and led it away to the stable. A young man introduced himself as Metellus, the temporary commander, explaining that he had been away and only just returned but would Paulus like to inspect the troops…he had just lined them up on the parade ground.

  Paulus answered affirmatively and took his measure of the troops, thinking that for all their smart appearance he detected a certain lack of discipline that would have to be dealt with promptly. The soldiers regarded Paulus with respect and some unease, for his reputation had preceded him. He was known as being rigid but fair, ruthless in battle, outspoken regarding military matters and close-mouthed about everything else. This Paulus Valerius Maximus did not strut about and shout his orders as the former commander had done (before he drank himself to death), but he had a naturally compelling air that seemed to make a silent demand for obedience.

  And he was liked by Tiberius and disliked by Sejanus, a lethal combination…yet he was still alive. The question as to why he had been appointed to command a fort in a Jewish province, under the governorship of a man who was not even his social equal, had already provoked much speculation.

  Paulus gave them a short, improvised speech (he hadn’t anticipated doing so until tomorrow) and finally was able to retire to the praetorium, where his living quarters would be. Simon helped him remove his cuirass; he got into a dry tunic, found a comfortable chair, sat back with a sigh and propped his feet on a stool. A servant brought a tray of fresh figs stuffed with pistachios, a slab of goat cheese and a pitcher of wine.

  He motioned for Simon to sit down. “Here, have some figs—they’re delicious. Tell me, Simon, have you ever been here before?”

  “No, sir. My father was Greek, so we never made the pilgrimages. It’s rather like Rome, is it not, sir?” Simon did sit, but very straight, and he only partook of two figs. Although he liked Paulus he never forgot he was a slave.

  “I can see why you would think so. Herod tried to turn it into a Roman city. You won’t find much of the—decadence, shall we say, that you find in Rome. At least it doesn’t show outwardly, among the Jews. And you will find no statues of gods and Caesars, except in the Roman quarters. Graven images, you see. Their God would not approve. Most of them take their religion very seriously, and to make jokes about him as we do our gods would be blasphemy.”

  “Do you know much of their religion, sir?”

  Paulus leaned his head on the back of the cushioned chair and stared meditatively at the gilded ceiling. “I know that there is a reverence about it that I find impressive.” After a pause he added, looking at his slave with a gleam of amusement in his eyes, “But don’t misunderstand me, Simon. I speak of the people, not their leaders. The Sadducees are more political than religious, and would kiss the back end of a donkey to retain their current position of importance.

  “And as for the Pharisees…they won’t even associate with anyone who doesn’t observe their so-called rules of purification. They would rather walk into a wall than look at a woman on the street, which makes you wonder if their thoughts are as they should be to begin with! They’re forever counting up their good deeds to make sure they outnumber any sins they may have unwittingly committed. And you will see some, Simon, who display such humility they look as if their beards are growing to their chests.”

  Simon was chuckling, and Paulus grinned. “It would be interesting to see someone of their own faith take them down a peg or two. But it would take a very brave man.”

  “You paint an interesting picture, sir, but I’m not very familiar with the functions of these—whatever you called them. In fact, though my mother was Jewish, she died when I was very young, so I know little of Jewish ways or their past.”

  “Well, I will give you a brief lesson, then.” Paulus put a fig in his mouth. “I think they have soaked these in honey and lemon juice—here, have another. Now where shall I begin?”

  “How about when Pompey conquered the land a hundred years ago? I do know Roman history.”

  “Very well. You may be aware that the word ‘Palestine” comes from ‘Philistine’, which was the name of the original inhabitants—as far as our historians have discovered. Then the Israelites, or Jews as we call them, moved in—and believe me, their history has been anything but peaceful. At any rate, Rome made the first Herod king over the whole country; he was very shrewd politically and had many powerful friends.

  “But the Jews hated him. He was an Edomite; we Romans call the region Idumea. The Edomites are of mixed races, so naturally the Jews despise them, and Herod had an Arabian mother—so he was doubly cursed
. You are probably familiar with the antics of Herod. He committed as many murders as any good throne-seeker in Rome, and many of them were of his own family.”

  “But obviously,” Simon said, with a droll look, “a master builder.”

  “Indeed. The Jewish Temple, this fortress, all those palaces…you should see the one near Bethlehem. Amphitheaters, too, and race courses. He wanted to impress the Jews and at the same time seduce them into the Roman way of life.

  “He died at last, and Rome divided his kingdom between three of his sons. Archelaus had Samaria and Judea, Antipas has Galilee and Perea, and Philip has a territory east of the Sea of Galilee. But Archelaus turned out to be too much like his father and so Judea is now ruled by procurators. Though Pilate is just a prefect because of his lack of military experience.”

  “But you were called prefect, sir.”

  “That, Simon, is a complicated situation that I’ll have to pass over for now. Back to your original question—Rome allows the Jews a great deal of freedom, both political and religious. Their government is presided over by a supreme council called the Sanhedrin. There are about seventy men or so on this council; their headquarters are here in Jerusalem. And these seventy are composed of Sadducees, who are aristocrats, and Pharisees, who are of the middle classes. They have beliefs that differ somewhat from each other, so there are often conflicts and squabbles. One thing they all agree on, though, is that they enjoy their freedom and don’t want to give Rome any reason to take it away.”

  “It is surprising to me, sir, that Rome tolerates this self-government.”

  Paulus shrugged. “They’re impossible to rule otherwise. They’d rather be slaughtered than make concessions regarding their religion. The people I mean…I’m not too sure about the priests. And I forgot to mention the elders and the scribes, the scribes being experts in Jewish law, and the elders are supposedly descendents of the ancient ruling families. Most of them are quite wealthy.”

  “And so this council governs all of Palestine?” Simon asked.

  “Well, there are local courts throughout the provinces, but they all answer to the Sanhedrin. It’s when they can’t handle their own affairs that Rome must get involved, but that’s Pilate’s problem, not mine.”

  A curt knock on the door interrupted them. The guard opened it to admit a centurion, who saluted briefly. Paulus got to his feet and acknowledged the salute, as Simon rose to stand across the room.

  “Welcome to Jerusalem, sir. The cohort commander asked that I make a report.” He was nervously grasping two sheets of heavily scribbled on papyrus.

  “Thank you, Centurion. Your name?”

  “Marcus Terentias, sir. I am the senior centurion. I regret that I wasn’t present at the inspection earlier. I was occupied elsewhere.”

  Paulus wondered at the man’s obvious unease, and noticed that Marcus’ hands were shaking. His bloodshot eyes and red face indicated a possible habituation to strong drink.

  “I will serve on your administrative staff, sir, as we are short of tribunes here. We will be ready to assemble at your command. I understand you’re particularly interested in Zealot activity.”

  “That is correct. The staff will meet in the morning an hour after sunrise. I would like to see all the reports you have, as well as a map of known meeting places and recent attacks.”

  “I am afraid not much is known, sir, as they strike without warning and then disappear. Their leaders are unknown to us.”

  “Do we have any in prison?”

  “No, sir.” The centurion looked uncomfortable, but then brightened. “There is a man you may wish to interview. Herod has him in prison at the fort in Machaerus. He claims not to be a Zealot, but he has amassed a strong following.”

  “What is his claim, then, that others should follow him?”

  “He is said to be a religious prophet.”

  Paulus raised an eyebrow. “For what reason did Herod imprison him?”

  The centurion succeeded in looking even more uncomfortable. “That is largely a matter of gossip, sir. It is said that Herod’s wife was enraged because this man openly denounced her, and the tetrarch, for committing adultery.”

  “Ah,” Paulus said, with a wry look at Simon. “As I recall, she divorced his brother, Philip, to marry Antipas. This prophet had better look out, if Herodias’ temper is all it’s rumored to be. What is his name? I might be interested in speaking with him.”

  “John, called the Baptizer, because he baptizes his disciples in the Jordan River. Our sources say his followers number in the thousands. There is another man, called Jesus of Nazareth, who is also gathering a following. So far he has confined himself to Galilee.”

  “I will, of course, adhere to the Roman custom of allowing certain religious liberties, but you may continue to watch these men and include their activities in your reports. I suspect, though, that this baptizer’s days are numbered. Is that all, Centurion?”

  “Sir, a messenger was sent to say that Herod Antipas extends his welcome and would like you and your wife to attend a feast tonight to celebrate your arrival. He is very sorry he was not able to greet you earlier today.”

  “You may send word we will be present, providing my wife is feeling well.”

  When the centurion had gone, Paulus looked at his slave with humor. “Sounds as if Herod had better get himself back to Galilee, if only to make sure he’s not overrun with prophets. Or at least send Herodias. She’ll make short work of them, no doubt.”

  Simon stifled a laugh, not sure if he should go so far as to imply mockery of the tetrarch’s wife; it was all very well for the legate to do so. Instead he said, “It sounds as though you will have a busy evening, sir.”

  Paulus sighed. “One I’m not looking forward to, Simon, I assure you.”

  CHAPTER X

  The sound of feminine giggling roused Alysia from a light sleep. Two young slave girls entered the room with pails of water and began to prepare a bath. They chattered to each other in some foreign tongue, eyeing her with shy curiosity. Glancing out the window she saw that night had fallen; she listened for rain and decided it had stopped. The room glowed yellow with lamplight.

  Alysia managed to make the girls understand that she wished to bathe alone, and they left after replacing the screen around the marble tub. When she stepped out onto a wicker mat, she found the slaves had left clothes for her…delicately sewn undergarments, a cream-colored gown embellished with gold thread, and shoes with cream ribbons for lacing around her ankles. She eyed the box of cosmetics and at last could not resist them, but she applied them lightly; the slaves had also laid out a thick necklace inlaid with amethysts and gold beads, and a matching pair of long earrings. She wound her hair in a knot and pinned it back.

  Surveying herself in a mirror, she was almost startled to see the image of her former self, Alysia of Athens, daughter of a wealthy physician. It seemed a hundred years ago. She had never thought to see herself this way again.

  She felt as if she had become two people. Alysia of Bethany did not belong here…should leave at once. There was nothing to justify her presence at Herod’s party, no reason for it, except that apparently it would please him and was no doubt intended to assuage her indignation.

  The other Alysia, this ghost of her former self, liked the way she looked and thought with longing of being a guest of the king, in the king’s palace! She would be admired, as she had always been before, and she would be able to talk with people who had similar backgrounds to her own, and who wouldn’t look down upon her as a slave, or a foreigner.

  Yes, she admitted to herself, it was a struggle with her vanity, and the old Alysia won. She could only hope there would be no one present who would recognize her as a fugitive from Roman justice! True, the world was getting smaller all the time, but it was beyond credibility that she would be seen here by someone who would know her face and what she had done. Besides, she looked quite different than she had in Rome.

  A soft knock on the door caused her
to jerk away from the mirror. A young woman opened the door and came boldly inside, looking at her with sharp curiosity.

  “I am Salome, Herod’s stepdaughter. You must be Alysia.”

  “Yes.” Alysia couldn’t help staring at the other woman. Salome wore a gown of diaphanous yellow cloth and beneath it only the briefest of undergarments. She had jewels in her long hair, which was obviously dyed blonde and had been frizzled with curling tongs, giving her a wild, licentious appearance. Her face was artfully painted in the manner of the Egyptians.

  Salome smiled. “He sent me to find you. Won’t you come with me?”

  Alysia followed her into the corridor, and Salome paused so she could walk beside her. She gave Alysia a sidewise glance that took in everything from her hair to the tips of her shoes.

  The corridor was full of people, all well-dressed and perfumed, and who all seemed to be heading for the same destination. In a moment they arrived at a great banquet hall. The music of harps, reed pipes and cymbals played from shadowy corners and competed with the noise made by hundreds of talking, laughing people.

  Alysia felt deceitful somehow, as if she were pretending to be someone she was not. And that, she thought suddenly, is exactly what I am doing.

  Salome reached out to take a cup of wine from a tray, handed it to Alysia, and took another for herself. “This is your first time?” she asked, sipping her wine.

  “My first time?” Alysia repeated blankly.

  “That is, your first time here at the palace. Your first association with my stepfather.”

  “Oh, yes. I met him this morning.”

  She caught a glimpse of Herod parading about in his stately robes, a large chalice held in one bejeweled hand. His face was flushed and jovial. Looking around, she saw a woman who must be Herod’s wife, dressed in scarlet with a huge, ruby-studded headdress. Heavy earrings dangled from her ears, and rings glittered coldly from her thin fingers. A massive gold necklace hung around her long, thin neck and seemed to slightly stoop her shoulders.