Rico hesitated before dropping his eyes and bowing his head. ‘Yes, excellency,’ he murmured. ‘I understand.’ And as Pilate returned back to the window, Rico slid out of the room.
* * *
As the thick blanket of sleep lifted, Vivius stretched his full length on the couch only to find as his feet stuck out from under the warmth of the blanket speeding the process up. He sat up slowly and rubbed his face, satisfied that despite having had less than four hours sleep he was remarkably well rested. Whatever foul-smelling herbal concoction Lucanus had poured down his patient’s throat on their return to the fort had certainly quietened Dorio down.
Throwing back the blanket, Vivius swung his feet to the ground and turned his attention to Fabius’s parchments spread across the table. The down side of hiding them under Dorio’s mattress had been the smells. Fortunately, he mused with a touch of satisfaction, he’d had the foresight to air them before retiring last night so he could work on them this morning.
Stabbing an apple in the bowl with his dagger, he sat down at the table and concentrated on the final pages of Fabius’s report.
After almost two hours he tossed his pen to one side and pinching his brow between his thumb and two fingers pondered on how he would get a conviction on Pilate based on the information accumulated so far. The truth was, he wouldn’t. There was no real proof that Pilate was acting unjustly towards the Jews, and it was solid proof Tiberius was after. As for Sejanus, there was still no mention of him.
Vivius leant forward, elbows on the table, his fingers forming a steeple as the repercussions of handing over a weak report to the emperor played on his mind. He breathed in deeply and then blew out softly through pursed lips. So, he decided taking his negative thoughts in check; the next step was finding Nikolaos, the bookkeeper; assuming he was willing to talk to a senator from Rome, or indeed had proof of embezzlement, and embezzlement running into a considerable sum of money, not just petty thieving.
Vivius sliced an apple in half with his dagger and crunched into it. Spitting out a pip he rose to his feet and opened the shutters to freshen the stale air in the room. But the air that drifted in was thick and warm, and the sky was dark grey as though a storm was brewing.
There was a knock on the door. Striding across the room Vivius flung it open. It was the medicus; the one that had a tendency to irritate him. Placing a warning finger to his lips Vivius pointed to the bedroom. ‘The patient and his physician are sleeping.’
The medicus regarded him coldly. ‘That’s all very well, Senator, but the physician needs to examine the decurion in the infirmary, now.’
Vivius jerked his head towards the bedroom door. ‘Then you better go and wake him.’ He paused. ‘Will the administration staff have started work yet?’
The medicus turned up his nose. ‘Of course, Senator. We all rise early at the fort.’
Deciding it wasn’t worth getting irritated over the haughtiness of his manner, Vivius washed himself in the bowl in the corner, dressed and leaving the medicus to rouse the sleeping patient left his quarters. As he approached the administration offices, he was surprised to find Claudia in the corridor. She was fastening the clasp of her rust brown cloak as though she was on her way out.
‘I thought I might ride into Bethany this morning,’ she said by way of greeting.
‘Alone?’
Her eyes held almost an impish twinkle when she said, ‘Not unless you’d like to accompany me. I’d enjoy that.’ She paused. ‘But you seemed to be on your way to the administration offices.’
Realising he could hardly deny it, Vivius said, ‘I was.’
‘Not more investigations into the Hasmonaean dynasty, surely? Ah no! Perhaps you were after the bookkeeper’s address? Wasn’t that what you were after when I found you down there a couple of days ago?’ Her brow knitted in mock surprise. ‘Why would you want that, Vivius?
‘You were right the first time, Claudia. I was going to read up about the Hasmonaean dynasty.’
‘Hmm.’ Her green continued twinkling at him. ‘Well, I’d hate to disturb your browsing. Perhaps we could make it an afternoon excursion? What do you think?’
Vivius didn’t dare to voice what he really thought. One more outing with Claudia would take their relationship on to a completely different level, and tempted though he was to let that happen he was conscious of the dangers and where it would lead.
‘I think that sounds like a good idea,’ he said carefully.
‘Then I shall see you later, Senator.’ Flashing him a knowing smile she glided down the corridor like one of the Hasmonaean princesses leaving a delicate aroma of roses behind her.
Vivius took the second flight of steps down to the administration offices and discovered the medicus was right; the clerks in the administrative officers were buzzing around in a manner that suggested the entire Roman presence in Palestine would come to a standstill if it weren’t for their records.
Vivius knocked on the office door of the clerk he had met two days ago and entered without waiting for an invitation. ‘Good morning.’
The owlish little man was sitting behind a desk piled high with wax tablets.
‘Thank you for your note. You have the bookkeeper’s address?’ Vivius asked.
The clerk’s eyes dropped uneasily and he began rummaging through the mess on his desk. ‘I can’t remember where… exactly but…I’ve written it down here…somewhere…’
Vivius sat down on a stool.
The shuffling around the desk continued for some time but then it stopped and the clerk’s owlish grey eyes blinked nervously at him. ‘Senator, may I be permitted to make an observation.’
‘You may.’
‘I’m not going to ask why you’re wanting Nikolaos’s address. You’re hardly likely to mix in the same circles as him, and I can make a shrewd guess that it has nothing to do with exploring the dynasty of the Hasmonaean princes. So I’m assuming it has something to do with him being Pilate’s former bookkeeper.’
‘Go on.’
‘Nikolaos…’ The little clerk sat back in his chair, his fingers playing nervously with a stylus. ‘Nikolaos, he’s Greek. He left the fort over a year ago, or rather he was forced to leave. He’s a good man; a man of integrity. But…’ He lifted a wax tablet from under a pile of tablets. ‘I’ve been instructed not to give you this, Senator.’ He hesitated before handing it to him.
‘Who instructed you?’ Vivius reached out and took the tablet.
‘I’d rather not say, Senator; if you don’t mind. I don’t want trouble. But yesterday I took the liberty of telling Nikolaos you’d asked for his address. I hope that was all right. He’s nervous about meeting you but…’ He leant forward in his chair. ‘He won’t be harmed, will he, Senator?’
‘Not from me he won’t.’
The clerk nodded his approval as he pointed to the tablet. ‘As you can see I’ve drawn a map. Nikolaos lives near the Greek quarter of the city, a rough area.’ He paused. ‘Can I be so bold as to ask you not to mention that I’ve given you this; not to anyone, and I mean anyone. As I said, I don’t want any trouble.’
Vivius pushed the fact that Claudia knew what he was looking for to the back of his mind. ‘Absolutely.’ He stood up.
Deciding he might have enough time to visit the bookkeeper before his afternoon excursion with Claudia, Vivius left the office and marched swiftly back to his quarters. He flung open the door and breathed in sharply.
‘By all the gods…’
The table was overturned, the chair broken, loose pages from Fabius’s journal were strewn across the floor soaking up water from the upturned water bowl, and in the middle of the mess was Lucanus, sprawled across the floor.
Vivius hauled the dazed physician into a sitting position. ‘What happened?’
‘I’m trying to put the pieces together myself, Senator,’ Lucanus said faintly. ‘I vaguely remember waking up, wandering through here for breakfast and finding a man rifling through your things on the table.�
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Vivius stooped down and held up one of the sodden pages of his report. ‘Was he reading this?’
‘What is it?’
‘Never mind. Did you recognize him?’
‘How could I possibly recognize anyone, Senator? I only arrived last night, remember?’
‘A Roman?’
‘I doubt it. He was big and dark skinned. He must have expected your quarters to be empty because when I came out of the bedroom he was startled. He made a run for it but…’ The physician attempted a grin but ended up wincing and holding his jaw. ‘I stopped him by throwing my medical case at him but…’ His face fell when he saw the dint in it. ‘Anyway, I threw the chair at him.’ He pointed to the broken chair and Vivius caught a note of pride creeping in when he said, ‘And then…then I punched him.’ He paused. ‘Trouble is, I took an oath to heal people, not kill them.’
Vivius retrieved the upturned bowl, filled it with water from the ewer, soaked a towel in it and examined the physician’s bloody gash on his jaw.’ How did you get that?’
Lucanus sucked in sharply through his teeth as Vivius dabbed the graze. ‘He was bigger than me. Ouch!’ He glared at him before taking the towel out of his hand and dabbing it gingerly on the wound himself.
Vivius made no comment, but he was surprisingly touched that Lucanus had put up a fight for their belongings. Leaving him to tend to his own wounds, Vivius bent down to retrieve the soggy parchments. Righting the table he placed them on top and examined them. A number of pages were torn, most of them were wet, but none of them appeared to have been stolen. ‘Was he reading my report?’
‘I shouldn’t think so, Senator. He didn’t give me the impression he was literate; but he was interested in your letter.’
‘Letter? What letter?’
‘The one you haven’t got round to reading yet.’
Vivius frowned. ‘Why would anyone want to read that?’
‘I have no idea, Senator. Why don’t you read it and find out?’
‘Where is it?’
‘I wrestled it out of his hand before he ran. That’s how I got this.’ He pointed to his face before raising a buttock and removing a crumpled piece of parchment. ‘I only arrived in Jerusalem yesterday, Senator, but so far I’ve been turned out of the fort by Romans, glared at by a hostile Jew and fought off a dark-skinned intruder. Can I ask what’s going on?’
Vivius took the parchment off his sorry looking physician. ‘No.’
‘In my opinion, someone saw you leave your quarters earlier, knew Dorio was in the infirmary, but didn’t expect to find me here.’ Lucanus persisted.
‘I need you to keep quiet about this break-in, Lucanus.’
‘If you say so, Senator.’ Lucanus sucked in through his teeth again.
Vivius glanced at him. ‘Thank you for what you did,’ he said brusquely.
‘Would you do me a favour, Senator?’
‘What.’
‘Read that blasted letter! If I’ve put my life at risk, I’d like to know why.’
Vivius gave a distant smile and unrolling the parchment was a little alarmed to see it was from Aurelia.
My dearest Vivius,
I write to warn you.
Sejanus has been to see me. He asked me about your friends, family and acquaintances at the Senate. Then he questioned me about the charges of treason brought against Julius which, as magistrate, you had dropped for lack of evidence. Sejanus is suggesting you concealed evidence. I don’t believe you did, my love, but my fear is that Sejanus may have you arrested for treason on your return. Why this unexpected surge of antagonism on his part I can only assume has something to do with your visit to Palestine.
I anxiously await your return—but be careful, my dear love.
Aurelia.
Vivius ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth; it was dry; even drier than on the eve of a battle. ‘Pack the bags, Lucanus. We’re going back to Rome.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘But…hold on senator. Let’s be practical. Dorio can’t travel, at least, not yet.’
‘Then we go without him.’
Lucanus dropped his bloodied towel into the dish of water. ‘Can I make a suggestion, Senator.’
‘No.’
‘Can I suggest you think about this first? It’ll take me the rest of the morning to arrange Dorio’s transfer back to the infirmary and pack anyway.’ The pause was brief. ‘And why the sudden haste to return to Rome? Was it something in the letter? If you tell me perhaps I can help. Although I’m not sure what I could do unless it was something medical. But who knows, by sharing the problem I might have a useful suggestion to…’
Lucanus’s voice reverberated around Vivius’s head like a persistent clanging bell. He could stand it no more. Without a word of explanation, he grabbed his cloak and headed for the door.
* * *
Vivius cursed as an unexpected surge in the crowd knocked him against the wall. Annoyed with himself for not having concentrated on where he was walking, he stepped back into a doorway to take stock of his situation. He ran his finger around his neck and found it uncomfortably damp with sweat. What madness had possessed him to wear his cloak in this humidity, he brooded. But he knew what madness: Aurelia. He hadn’t been able to think clearly about anything since reading her letter and leaving the fort.
It was a shout of encouragement from the man in front that drew his attention to the people around him. They were craning their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of some spectacle. He grimaced at the close proximity of their foul-smelling, sweating bodies, and was about to look for the nearest alley to get him away from this chaos when an unexpected gap left him with an unobstructed view of the road. At first, all he saw was a flushed faced Roman centurion cracking his whip, but then he noticed four prisoners dragging their wooden crosses behind them. ‘Why in the name of all the gods was he watching this circus?’ he thought irritably. He had no interest in the crucifixion of a handful of Jews…and yet…it dawned on him that he’d far rather watch four men staggering to their deaths in Jerusalem than envisage what was happening to Aurelia in Rome.
Vivius ran his hand down his face. He needed to think clearly, logically, he decided. His usually clear and analytical mind seemed to be incapable of functioning but appeared to be governed by irrational fears for Aurelia. Aurelia! He winced. He’d barely given her a thought in days. He’d been so wrapped up in his assignment…and Claudia that… He rubbed the back of his neck, uneasy with the burden of guilt that had landed on his shoulders.
In the distance a low rumble of thunder reverberated across the Judean hillside.
He gave his guilt permission to hover before realising he could do nothing for Aurelia in this emotional state of mind. Taking a few deep breaths to clear his head he made a conscious effort to push his concerns for her to one side.
So, he decided, if he was travelling back to Rome he would need to plan his route, his means of transport and consult with the physician. Despite what he had said to Lucanus earlier he could hardly leave Dorio in Jerusalem. Aurelia would be devastated if he arrived back in Rome without him. As for the emperor, Vivius took another deep breath and tried not to contemplate how he would explain the failure of his investigation to the emperor. That was an entirely different problem, one he would have to work out later. First, he had to get back to the fort.
He stepped out of the doorway, glanced around for an alternative route, and that was when he spotted the hostile Jew who had glared at him—twice.
* * *
Simon trudged through the city gates, his shoulders hunched, his head down, relieved to find that the citizens of Jerusalem, who had jostled him through the narrow streets of Jerusalem, were beginning to fan out across the open spaces either side of the Golgotha road.
He hovered at the side of the road, uncertain what to do next, conscious of the sweat drying on his body. No one took any notice of him; at least, he didn’t think they did. Everyone
was more interested in the crucifixion.
He waited, wishing he wasn’t here yet glad he was; grateful to Nathan’s urgent message that told him Zachary had been hauled from his cell for crucifixion early that morning. Simon had run all the way to the prison. At first he thought he might have been able to plead with the authorities, tell them Zachary was only a lad, a messenger, a lookout for the Zealots, nothing more. He’d never killed anyone in his life. But his well-rehearsed speech had remained unspoken, and he had almost wept out loud when he saw the tearstained boy dragging his wooden cross through the streets of the city. Three older men followed with their crosses. That was the moment Simon realised the only thing he could do now was to be with the lad as he died.
So now he waited.
He told himself he knew about death. He’d shed enough Roman blood himself during his time with the Zealots. He’d seen plenty of crucifixions, not least his friend Jesus at last year’s Passover. He knew what to expect. This crucifixion was no different from the others. Nevertheless, when he heard the first thud, thud, thud of the hammer he couldn’t stop himself from shaking.
Digging his nails into the palm of his hands he tried to close his ears to the screams of pain from the prisoners. But his imagination had no mercy, and he saw all too graphically the long nails being hammered into Zachary’s fleshy hands and feet, crushing his young bones.
The thud, thud, thud of the hammer and the awful screams appeared to go on forever, but when the noise eventually abated the awful silence that fell upon the hillside seemed even louder. That was when Simon forced himself to look up the hill. He vaguely registered that there were a dozen or more empty wooden crosses, but the four occupied ones were silhouetted against a dark grey sky.
Numbed and silent he viewed them.
It was the hint of a breeze through the muggy air that brought him back to something resembling reality. It was heading towards midday. He knew that because he heard the Jews standing nearby say so. They had decided to return to the city for food. He glanced around the crucifixion site, noting the depleting numbers. His shoulders sagged and suddenly he felt weary.
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