Premonition

by R. S. Ingermanson

  The plan was very simple. Hanan did not have to produce any witnesses. He had only to confuse Festus, to keep insisting that this was a religious trial, one in which Festus had no competence. One that must be tried before the full Sanhedrin in Jerusalem. He would hammer this point until Festus released Renegade Saul into his custody.

  On the way home, bandits would attack them and tragically kill their prisoner.

  Hanan waited.

  After some time, the local magistrates entered. One of them stepped to the podium. “All rise for the governor.”

  Everyone stood.

  Governor Festus strode in and took a seat.

  The magistrate said, “You may be seated.”

  A secretary entered and spread papyrus on a tall wooden writing table. He mixed ink and water and sharpened his reed pen, then nodded to the governor.

  “Who will present the case against the prisoner?” Festus said.

  Hanan rose. “Excellency, I will state the case.”

  “Proceed.”

  Hanan stepped forward into the open space before the governor. “Excellency, our religion is a legal religion, one approved by the Roman Senate. Caesar has granted us the right to rule ourselves according to our own ancient laws, so long as they do not conflict with those of Rome.”

  Hanan looked at Saul.

  The prisoner was sitting straight in his chair, his right eye fixed on Hanan, his left eye ... closed.

  “According to our ancient law, no Gentile may come within the purified section of the Temple courts. We have erected a barrier wall there, with signs in Aramaic, Latin, and Greek, warning that no Gentile may enter, on pain of death. If a Jew brings a Gentile within the wall, both suffer the penalty.”

  Hanan waited while the secretary finished taking notes on what he had said so far.

  “Now this man Paulos, who is also called Saul in our language, is notorious throughout the empire. He has caused disturbances in Antioch, in Asia, and in Greece. This is well known, and does not require witnesses.

  “Excellency, the cause of the disturbances is quite clear. This Paulos teaches Jews throughout the empire to forsake our legal religion, the customs of our fathers, and to follow an unknown religion, one not approved by Caesar, an illegal religion. And he urges Gentiles to do likewise—including Roman citizens.

  “This man arrived in Jerusalem more than two years ago and caused a disturbance there. He attempted to bring a Gentile into the inner court of the Temple—”

  “Attempted?” Festus said. “You say he attempted to bring in a Gentile?”

  “Yes, we have witnesses who will attest to this in Jerusalem.”

  Festus scowled at Hanan. “You told me some days ago that he actually took a Gentile into your sacred area.”

  Hanan held up an open palm. “Perhaps I misspoke. Some time has passed since the incident in question. But we know for certain that he attempted to bring in this Gentile, and a riot resulted in the inner courts. We have many witnesses in Jerusalem—”

  “Why did you not bring your witnesses here?”

  Hanan felt sweat slide down his arms. “The purpose of this hearing was to explain the charges against the prisoner, which are of a religious nature. These are not matters of Roman law. They deal with Jewish law, and should be tried in Jerusalem before a Jewish court. This man has violated our laws—”

  “But you said only moments ago that Paulos advocates an illegal religion, one not approved by the Senate. Surely, this is a matter for a Roman court?”

  “Excellency, perhaps some charges might be brought against him in a Roman court, but the specific charges which we bring are those of Jewish law, and they are extremely serious. The penalty for taking Gentiles into the forbidden court is death. If your Excellency wishes to prosecute charges more serious than these—”

  “Paulos, how do you respond to these charges?” Festus pointed a thick finger at the prisoner. “Hanan, you may be seated.”

  Hanan sat.

  Paulos stood with his guards and stepped forward to face the governor.

  Hanan held his breath. Renegade Saul was a crafty trickster.

  “Governor Festus, the charges made by Hanan son of Hanan are vague and insulting to the intelligence of this court. He claims that I have caused disturbances throughout the empire—”

  “This is a matter of common knowledge,” Festus said. “You have a reputation, Paulos. Do you deny causing riots in Phillipi, and in Ephesus, and in Corinth?”

  “Excellency, I have faced magistrates in each of these cities and been acquitted each time,” Paulos said. “I have caused riots in the same sense that a deer causes arrows to fly at it.” He raised his left eyelid with his finger. “You will observe that I am missing an eye. This happened in Lystra, when I was stoned at the instigation of evil men. It is a matter of public record that I have each time been found innocent. So Hanan the son of Hanan has no grounds for bringing charges against me here for those disturbances.”

  Festus narrowed his eyes. “What of the other charges? Do you advocate an illegal religion, contrary to the laws of Caesar?”

  “I am a Jew, as you see,” Paulos said. “I belong to the sect of Jews called The Way. We are followers of a man named Yesous, who is called in our language Yeshua, a righteous Jew who broke no laws.”

  “I have heard of this fool Yesous,” Festus said. “I have not heard whether his followers teach a legal or an illegal religion. But we digress. What of the specific charge that you attempted to take a Gentile into the forbidden courts of your Temple?”

  Paulos shook his head. “You will notice that the charge is not specific, Excellency. First they told you I actually took him in. At my hearing with Governor Felix two years ago, I pointed out that no such Gentile was arrested, and none was ever executed. Why not? Because there was no Gentile! Now, they tell you that I attempted to bring him in. If so, where is he? Next they will tell you that I intended to bring him in, as if they can read the thoughts of a man’s heart. This is nonsense. They have no witnesses, no Gentile, no evidence, no case. They hate me only because I follow a different sect from theirs, teaching the resurrection of Yesous. But I am a Jew, just as they are. I pray the same prayers to the same God, the One God of Israel. My religion is as legal as theirs, because it is the same religion. We are merely different sects of the Jewish religion.”

  Festus turned to Hanan. “How do you wish to respond to that?”

  Hanan wiped his wet palms on his tunic and stood up. “Excellency, we do have a case, and witnesses, and evidence. But our witnesses are in Jerusalem, as I have already said, and the case should be tried there. Paulos has just admitted that our differences are matters of interpretation of our laws. Therefore, we respectfully request that you release him to us for trial by our own judges according to our own law.” He sat down again.

  Festus pointed to Paulos. “And your response?”

  Paulos shook his head. “The judges in Jerusalem are the men bringing charges against me—men such as Hanan ben Hanan. They are biased, and to stand trial before them is to be tried beforehand.”

  Festus sat in quiet thought for some time. “Here is a reasonable compromise. Paulos will face trial in Jerusalem, but I will personally act as judge.”

  Hanan jumped to his feet, putting on a mask of indignation to cover the joy in his heart. “Excellency, this is a Jewish matter—”

  Festus cut him off with a wave of the hand. “It is a reasonable compromise. If Paulos accepts it, surely you can?”

  Hanan waited a suitable period, as if giving the matter thought. He need only get Paulos out on the open road, unprotected except by a few soldiers. “Very well. We agree.”

  Festus turned to the prisoner. “Paulos, are you willing?”

  “Excellency,” Paulos said. “I stand in Caesar’s court, the proper venue for this trial. I have done no wrong, nor violated any of our Jewish laws, though if I had, I admit that I would deserve death. But there is no basis for these lying charges against me, an
d I will not be handed over to them.” He cleared his throat. “Ad Caesarem provoco!”

  Festus jerked his head back, and his mouth dropped open. He turned to the magistrates behind him and they all began whispering in excited voices.

  Hanan turned to his assistants. “Who speaks Latin? What did Renegade Saul say?”

  The youngest chief priest pursed his lips, his face taut with fury. “He ... appeals the case to Caesar.”

  Hanan stared at him. “But ... Festus cannot grant such a request, can he? It is absurd.”

  The young priest wiped sweat off his forehead. “The governor has to grant the request. Renegade Saul is a citizen of Rome. It is a point of foolishness in Roman law that a citizen may interrupt legal proceedings at any time to appeal to Caesar.”

  Hanan turned back to look at the prisoner. Why had Saul appealed to Caesar? He must know the dangers of a long sea voyage, the capriciousness of Caesar. Why refuse a trial before Festus—an eminently reasonable and unbiased man?

  Renegade Saul was studying him, a knowing smile curving up the corners of his mouth.

  A terrible thought struck Hanan. But no, it was not possible.

  Nobody could have warned Renegade Saul. Nobody.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Berenike

  * * *

  THE MIDMORNING HEAT OF CAESAREA oppressed Berenike, a damp blanket smothering her breath. It had been long since she visited this city, because her sister Drusilla had lived here. The wretched little zonah, who thought she must automatically be the most beautiful of the sisters, only because she was youngest. Despicable, the way people fawned over Drusilla. All because she consorted with Governor Felix—that was the only reason. Now that Felix was recalled to Rome in disgrace, Drusilla would learn what people really thought of her.

  Berenike and Agrippa sat in separate chairs, each carried by four sweating Germans. A humid morning breeze blew in off the ocean, making the heat all the more horrid. She should have stayed in Banias.

  Except that Agrippa needed her. He would never admit it, but she understood the subtleties of politics better than he did. She knew the game and he did not. If he ever hoped to become the Great King of Judea, he would need recommendations to Caesar from the governor and the chief priests. He needed her help, her quick analyses of the personalities. And today, that meant doing a small favor for the new governor. Festus had held a hearing a few days ago for a certain prisoner, and required help in determining the charges against him. Now the governor requested Agrippa’s help, and of course he had agreed. That would put the governor in his debt.

  Berenike’s heart leaped. What fun! She had heard about this man Paulos. He was intelligent, educated, pious—and quite possibly insane. For the next hour, she would have a marvelous opportunity to match wits with Paulos and Festus, manipulating one against the other for her advantage, while each tried to do the same with her. All three were players of great skill. This was the game as it was meant to be played, and she loved it.

  When they arrived at the Praetorium the Germans lowered the chairs. Berenike stepped out and took a moment to admire the palace. It was a thing of beauty, something only a Herod could have imagined. Her great-grandfather had built the palace to occupy an entire small peninsula jutting into the Great Sea, creating the illusion that the palace itself floated on the ocean. On the left side was a pier from which you could step directly into a boat. The palace had a courtyard with a great pool and sculptures worthy of any Roman temple. Gorgeous! Splendid! A palace worthy of a Herod.

  Governor Festus came out to greet them. “Grace to you, King Agrippa,” he said in Greek. His eyes took in Berenike with manly appreciation. “And this must be your lovely sister. I have heard rumors, but truthfully, words do not do her beauty justice.”

  Berenike smiled. Here in Caesarea, she dressed as a Roman woman—with hair braided in a crown on her head, and without one of those horrible veils that covered up her beauty. Her fine silk tunica showed off her magnificent body, rather than hiding it like those terrible sacks women wore in Jerusalem. How excellent to meet a man who appreciated such things! She inclined her head a fraction to the governor. “Grace and peace to you, Governor Festus.”

  Festus led the way into the Praetorium and all the way back to the auditorium.

  Berenike had not come here in more than six years, and the view stole her breath. The sea, blue as lapis, surrounded them on three sides. To the north lay the harbor built by her great-grandfather—the largest manmade harbor in the empire, and surely the most beautiful. To the south, a beach of white sand stretched beyond the reach of her eye. If Agrippa added Judea to his territories, he and she would live in this palace, a dwelling place fit for the gods.

  Agrippa must get Judea.

  Berenike must help him.

  If that meant she must lie, or cheat, or steal, or commit murder—she would do so, as any Herod would. Anyone who balked at such things was not fit for the throne.

  Berenike

  * * *

  After a short wait, Roman soldiers arrived with the prisoner. Berenike had heard much of this man. Tales told that he was ugly, but the tales were understated. A deep scar dented his forehead, next to his tefillin. He was nearly bald, with a dark weather-beaten face and an untrimmed gray beard. And ...

  His eye! His left eye socket was empty. Oh! How delightfully revolting! Berenike fanned herself with her ivory fan.

  A number of dignitaries came in and sat down in the audience. Most of them were local aristocrats, but half a dozen were chief priests from Jerusalem.

  Berenike felt their cold stares on her unveiled face, saw their hot, furtive glances stolen at her silk-sheathed body. How wonderful! They disapproved! Surely these fools must know that in Caesarea, a queen dressed in the Roman style? Did they think every city was like Jerusalem? Berenike turned her eyes wide and innocent and looked directly at Hanan ben Hanan.

  His face colored, and he averted his gaze.

  Good, let him suffer. If she could catch the prisoner’s eyes, she would try to fluster him also. He was said to be very pious. Such a man would be embarrassed to look on her.

  Governor Festus began speaking in stiff Greek—the usual peacockery about how delighted he was that they had all come.

  Berenike concentrated her attention on the man Paulos.

  His eyes were both closed and his ugly, brutalized face looked ... serene.

  Berenike smiled. She would see how long that lasted. What man could withstand the heat of her eyes?

  “... since it seems ridiculous to me that I should send a prisoner on to Caesar without also including the charges against him,” Governor Festus said.

  Agrippa leaned forward. “Paulos, you may speak on your own behalf.”

  Paulos opened his right eye and stood up, clanking his chains as he moved toward the center of the room, trailed by his chain-mates, two bored-looking soldiers.

  “King Agrippa, I am delighted to stand before you today to discuss the charges brought against me by a few of our countrymen.” Paulos bowed his head respectfully, then turned to Berenike.

  She widened her eyes, scorching him with a seductive gaze that Gentile men found irresistible, and Jewish men found humiliating.

  Paulos gave her a brotherly smile, and his one eye met both of hers squarely, as if he and she were old friends. “And what a pleasure to meet the queen, also. I have prayed much on behalf of your ... health recently, and I trust you are well again.”

  A shudder ran through her. He had prayed that she was well ... again? Why? What did he know? Who had told him of her secret illness? She managed a smile and then dropped her gaze. “Thank you. I have been ... quite well.” Her heart pulsed against the unbearably thin fabric of her tunica. Surely, everyone must see it thumping?

  “I know that both the king and the queen are knowledgeable in the many points of our Jewish law,” Paulos said. “I thank you in advance for your patience while I discuss the controversy that has pursued me throughout the empire.�
��

  Berenike tried to relax, to will her face to stop blushing. Of course, it was foolishness to think Paulos could know anything of her recent ... problems. It was politeness, nothing more.

  “As every Jew of Jerusalem knows, I belong to the sect of the Pharisees, and have lived my life in strict obedience to the customs of the fathers.”

  Berenike narrowed her eyes. This was not what she had heard. Tales told that he had abandoned the commandments and taught other Jews to do likewise. Was he a liar? Were his tefillin for show?

  “And as a Pharisee, I believe in the mighty hope of the resurrection of the dead. It is not for any criminal action that I am on trial today, but for this hope alone that I stand accused before you. The question is simply this—why should it be considered too hard for God to raise a man from the dead?” Fire flashed in his eye and he turned to look at Berenike, probing her, peering into her heart. “What is death to the living God?”

  An image seared Berenike’s vision. Agrippa seizing the legs of her newborn daughter, swinging her in a high arc, dashing her brains against a stone table.

  Revulsion welled up inside her. She struggled to breathe, trembling, afraid she might vomit. She could not look away from this man, though he scorched her. He had only one eye, but ... it was the eye of a seer. Paulos was playing foul in this game. He had come to the table with knowledge of things hidden.

  Paulos continued talking.

  Berenike’s mind raced far ahead, pursued by this man’s burning eye. What did he know? And what ... would he reveal to this court?

  Paulos said that he had met this resurrected man Yesous when he journeyed to Damascus to slay the innocent. His one live eye burned her flesh as he spoke of it.

  She fought to turn from that gaze and could not. Behind his eye, she looked into his mind and saw that ... he knew. Yes, he knew what she had done.