The Senator's Assignment

by Joan E. Histon

  But when he reached the big wooden doors of the fort, he slumped against the door frame and ran his hand down his face. An overwhelming despair had washed over him; and it wasn’t just for Aurelia. The thought of facing the confines of his quarters, the smell of drugs, groans from Dorio and the incessant chatter of his physician was more than he could handle. What he needed, he decided, was thinking time, planning time, time to consider Aurelia’s letter in detail. On top of which, he had acted on the spur of the moment when he had asked Simon to take him to a trustworthy member of the Sanhedrin, and spontaneity was not in his makeup. He needed time to assess his actions.

  Feeling better for having made a decision, he headed to the smaller of the two dining rooms, the one allocated for officers and visiting dignitaries. To his relief it was almost deserted. It was a pleasantly warm room with pale yellow wall lights which gave the room a cosy glow. Taking off his wet cloak, he chose a secluded corner with a comfortable couch and a low dining table set out in such a manner that he was unlikely to be disturbed. The meal that day was chicken served with sauces, vegetables and a jug of wine, and while he ate he made a conscious effort not to dwell on either the problems in Rome or his investigation.

  It was after his dinner, when he was dozing under the heady glow of the wine, that he found Aurelia gliding into the forefront of his mind as if she had been waiting in the wings for her cue. It was a childhood memory that emerged; she was calling his name, searching for him the way she always did after his father and Fabiana had subjected him to one of their beatings. She had always had this…inner sense when something was wrong, he mused. And she had always known where she would find him—hiding in the olive grove. He remembered the way her small hand would slip into his, and they would sit in a comfortable silence under the leaves of the gnarled old olive trees. Her childish love had been his only comfort during those awful years. A childish love; that’s what it had been but… Vivius pinched between his eyes, trying to shut off unexplored emotions that threatened to rise to the fore. He had sworn he would never trust another human being again after his father had…but somehow…Aurelia…

  The question that landed on him like a heavy object dropped from a great height prompted him to open his eyes, as if the object was physically standing in front of him demanding he listen. He listened. What sort of a man sought after a dalliance with another woman, while the woman he was betrothed to, the woman who had been his dearest childhood friend, could be in danger—because of him?

  The answer crept up on him before he had finished asking the questions. If his actions of the last few days were anything to go by, he was a womanizer—just like his father. He abandoned people if something more interesting came along—like his father. Vivius pushed his empty dinner plate away as it occurred to him he had no idea how to be sensitive, how to be compassionate…or even how to…love—just like his father. Sickened by this honest appraisal of himself he grabbed his cloak and headed for his quarters.

  * * *

  ‘Ah! You’re back!’ Lucanus greeted him in a manner that reminded him of a scolding.

  ‘I wasn’t aware I had to give you an account of my whereabouts?’ he said irritably.

  Lucanus’s face flushed. ‘Oh, sorry, you don’t. I didn’t mean to sound…you know. It’s the aftereffects of being hit over the head. I’m not used to it.’

  Vivius glanced around the room. Everything was neat and orderly. There was even a new chair to replace the broken one. Lucanus had obviously been busy clearing up after their intruder. Vivius pointed to the bedroom door. ‘Is he sleeping?’

  ‘Yes, he spent the morning in the infirmary.’

  Vivius lay down on his bed and entwined his fingers behind his head. ‘Good,’ was all he said and closed his eyes as a hint he wanted privacy. But then he was forced to open them again when the physician plonked the new chair next to his bed in a manner that suggested he was all set for a long conversation.

  ‘So are we returning to Rome or not, Senator?’

  ‘Not.’

  ‘Can I ask why?’

  ‘No.’ He yawned and turned to face the wall. ‘Goodnight, Lucanus!’

  * * *

  The following morning, Vivius hovered outside the temple. He could see why Simon had chosen this spot. He would be relatively unnoticed among the swarms of sightseers buzzing around the temple grounds like bees around a honey pot. Any exchange of words would be lost among the cries of admiration at Herod’s magnificent temple, or yells from the money changers and merchants under the covered porticoes. Vivius listened to them trying to outdo each other in an attempt to entice customers to their stalls. Then he spotted Simon. He was loitering around the temple doors with the pilgrims and worshippers, watching him.

  The Jew’s acknowledgment was nothing more than sharp jerk of the head which Vivius took to be an indication to follow. He followed, a dozen or more paces behind as he had the previous day, until they reached the more affluent part of Jerusalem.

  They turned off the main road and took a narrow lane, barely wide enough for a cart, with ivy-covered stone walls. Then Simon disappeared into one of the courtyards.

  When Vivius followed, he was surprised to find that Joseph of Arimathea’s courtyard led into a garden that, despite it being the onset of springtime, had a display of colourful and exotic plants which vaguely reminded Vivius of the summer exhibitions in Rome. The only difference being, Joseph’s garden was considerably smaller and delightfully secluded. Birds chirped in the shrubs, a decorative fountain splashed into a pool of reeds, and there was a strong aroma from a bed of hyacinths. With a gesture of his hand, Joseph invited Vivius to join him on a garden seat in the shade of an almond tree. Simon hovered on the other side of the fountain.

  Being reasonably familiar with the Jewish practice of hospitality, Vivius was aware they wouldn’t get down to business straight away so he made himself comfortable, drank the sweet liquid offered, exchanged pleasantries and came to the pleasing conclusion that he had chosen well. Joseph was a sharp-minded businessman, a Jew of integrity; and a man he felt he could do business with.

  Eventually, Joseph picked up a rolled parchment from the marble table and handed it to him. ‘I believe this is what you were after, Senator. It’s a copy of our courtroom records.’

  Unrolling the parchment, Vivius found it contained a list of arrests going back at least two years. Alongside each name and date was the name of the arresting officer, the charge, the presiding judge and the sentence. But he noticed that many names simply had ‘Roman crucifixion’ written alongside them. The charge, judge and sentence had been omitted.

  Vivius pointed to these entries. ‘Were these men Zealots?’

  ‘Some of them.’ Joseph hesitated. ‘Can I speak frankly, Senator?’

  ‘I would appreciate if you would.’

  Joseph paused a beat as if choosing his words carefully. ‘Most Jews, including myself, object to being ruled by a foreign power, Senator. But even more objectionable is seeing my countrymen arrested on trumped-up charges, frequently for minor offences, and then crucified by Rome without a trial. It is my belief that everyone should be entitled to a trial—even Zealots.’ Joseph spoke without rancour but Vivius could see he felt strongly about the subject. ‘We have brought this to Procurator Pilate’s attention on numerous occasions but as you will appreciate, if he refuses to act we’re powerless to do anything about it.’ Joseph allowed his words to register with his guest before adding, ‘Simon’s cousin, Zachary Ben Elazar, is the last name on the list. I believe he was the one you were asking about?’

  Vivius studied the last three entries with interest. ‘I see he’s listed simply as “thief – Roman crucifixion.” So Simon was right; there was no trial?’

  ‘That’s correct, Senator.’

  ‘Do you know what he was accused of stealing?’

  There was a sharp response from the other side of the fountain. ‘Swords.’

  ‘I see. What about the names above, the men who died
with Zachary Ben Elazar. Were they stealing swords too?’

  ‘No senator,’ Joseph answered. ‘I discovered that one of them was a baker.’

  Vivius glanced up. ‘A baker?’

  ‘The man had been a petty thief for years but never a Zealot. Unfortunately, the Romans caught him making a delivery of bread to a house where it was suspected Zealots were being recruited. He was caught up in the arrests.’

  Vivius examined the parchment. ‘I see there was no trial. But surely he protested his innocence?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Joseph said. ‘He wasn’t held long enough for enquiries to be made.’

  ‘Why?’

  Joseph glanced cautiously at Simon before saying, ‘Pilate likes to have more than one crucifixion at a time; it saves on Roman manpower when they’re paraded through the streets as a deterrent for going against Rome. I believe Zachary and the baker were dragged from their cells to make up the numbers.’ Joseph folded his hands in his lap. ‘We’ve seen too many innocent men crucified without a trial since Pilate became Procurator, Senator.’

  Vivius studied the names of the judges at the side of those charged, and that was when his eyes fell on a familiar name. ‘What’s this?’ he asked quietly. He turned the parchment so that Joseph could see where he was pointing.

  Joseph craned his neck. ‘It’s one of many charges brought against the more prominent Jews in our country by the Roman Prefect Lucius Aelius Sejanus.’

  The steady rhythm of Vivius’s heart broke into a trot. ‘And why would Sejanus be involved in the crucifixion of Jews in Palestine?’

  ‘Only you can answer that one, Senator.’ Joseph hesitated before adding, ‘I don’t believe he cares for our race.’

  ‘Who has he made these charges against? Do you know them?’

  Joseph ran his finger down the list. ‘As far as I can see most of them are wealthy businessmen, Jews of authority, members of the Sanhedrin, Pharisees or Sadducees.’ He shrugged. ‘If they don’t comply with requests from Rome, or rather from Prefect Sejanus…’

  Vivius’s eyes hardened. ‘Requests from Sejanus?’

  Joseph regarded him shrewdly. ‘You appear to be showing an undue interest in Sejanus, Senator, which encourages me to suggest you also make enquiries into his financial dealings in Palestine.’

  ‘His financial dealings?’ Vivius ended his sentence with an upward inclination.

  There was a lengthy pause, during which Vivius suspected the Jew was debating how much he was at liberty to reveal. But then he breathed in deeply and said, ‘I shall tell you what I know.’ There was a pause. ‘Some months ago a…a friend, Benjamin by name, a loyal and respected Jew, a man of integrity and a member of the Sanhedrin, was informed that Pilate was embezzling from the taxes we pay to Rome. But within days of his discrete enquiries, Benjamin was arrested for treason and crucified without a trial.’

  ‘Can I ask who gave Benjamin his information?’

  ‘Someone who was privy to the finances between Palestine and Rome,’ Joseph answered cautiously.

  ‘The bookkeeper,’ Vivius breathed the word almost silently, but didn’t miss Joseph’s startled expression.

  There was a short silence. ‘When are you returning to Rome, Senator?’

  Vivius rolled up the parchment. ‘I have one more investigation to follow up, but hopefully tomorrow or the day after. I’m anxious to get back to Rome. Thank you for…’ He held up the parchment as he rose to his feet. ‘And for your hospitality.’

  Joseph stood up. ‘It occurs to me, Senator, that if it’s discovered what you’re up to, you might have opposition when you try to leave.’

  ‘I might.’

  ‘And I might be able to help you. Simon has friends…’

  Simon raised his hands. ‘Don’t ask nothing of me, not for a Roman.’

  Joseph smiled and turning back to Vivius said, ‘Get word to me if you need help,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Thank you.’ Vivius raised a hand as Simon made to get up. ‘No. I can find my own way back to the fort from here.’

  * * *

  Simon waited until he was sure the Roman had left before saying, ‘You trust him?’

  Joseph’s head was bowed in contemplation but he looked up when Simon spoke. ‘Mmm? Oh, of course.’

  ‘And you believe he’ll get justice for Zachary?’

  ‘I do,’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why would he want the information in the first place, unless he was going to do something with it? He’s a good man, Simon. I believe he wants justice, but that’s not what bothers me.’ Joseph stroked his beard thoughtfully. ‘Remember the senator’s comment when I told him about our friend Benjamin?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘When I told him Benjamin got his information from someone who was privy to the finances between Palestine and Rome, the senator muttered, “the bookkeeper”.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘The only person privy to Roman and Jewish taxes at a high level was Nikolaos, the Greek bookkeeper who asked Benjamin for help.’

  Simon’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘And what bothers me is why a Roman senator would put himself in danger from the Roman Governor Pilate for us Jews? I’m not simple minded enough to believe the Roman’s motives are that honourable even if you do.’

  Joseph pursed his lips. ‘I think we should keep our eye on our Senator Marcianus. The more we know what he’s up to the better. Follow him, Simon.’

  Simon gave him a stiff look. ‘What? You think I want to spend the rest of the day following a Roman?’

  ‘He found the time to enquire about Zachary.’

  ‘Why me? If you want him followed, send someone else.’

  ‘Who? You know him; no one else does.’ Joseph leant back in his chair. ‘Don’t you want justice for Zachary?’

  ‘Of course I do, but…’ Scratching his beard with a fierceness that made his jaw sting he finished his sentence with a ‘For Zachary’s sake, I’ll follow him. But just for today.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  (Jerusalem)

  When Vivius returned to his quarters he was surprised to find Dorio sitting at the table with a bowl of vegetable soup and a roll of bread in front of him. The Decurion was as pale as his shift; there were hollows under his cheekbones and dark rims around his eyes.

  ‘Out of bed? That’s good.’

  Dorio glowered at him. ‘Depends how you look at it. The good news is my fever’s gone. The bad news is, I’ve only one arm, my horse is dead, my unit has been taken over by a more able bodied Decurion, and none of my men have visited me.’

  Lucanus shouted through from the bedroom. ‘I told you. They’ve been transferred. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.’

  ‘I’m not feeling sorry myself, I’m stating facts.’

  Vivius flung his cloak on the couch, and then slid into the chair opposite Dorio. For a while, he watched chunks of vegetables splatter back into the bowl whenever the Decurion’s shaky hand lifted his spoon to his mouth.

  ‘Lost for words, eh Vivius?’ Dorio sneered between mouthfuls. ‘Not even you can find a use for a one-armed Decurion, can you?’

  Vivius made a steeple with his fingers and thought fondly of his old army physician, Gaius. When any of their men lost limbs in battle, Gaius had always handled their situation far better than he had. The only way he had been able to cope with the loss of a limb had been either to ignore the problem or order the wounded legionary to ‘pull himself together!’ Vivius found his mind flickering over the faces of his men who had been in Dorio’s position. Some had died from their wounds, others had died through lack of treatment or fevers, but many more had simply given up altogether because they had lost their sense of purpose in life. Vivius drummed his fingers together, uncomfortably aware that as their commanding officer he should have shown more compassion; done something to lift their depression or… The drumming stopped as it dawned on him that his hard attitude was like a shell he had built around himself for protection against…
<
br />   He waited until Dorio had finished his soup before shouting through the open bedroom door, ‘How fit is your patient, Lucanus?’

  Dorio gave a shrill laugh; it sounded almost manic. ‘Fit? It may have escaped your notice but I only have one arm!’

  ‘I can see that. I was talking to your physician.’

  Lucanus came through from the bedroom drying his hands on a towel. ‘He’s eating, and I did wonder whether we could manage a walk around the courtyard later.’

  ‘You might be able to manage a walk around the courtyard, but count me out,’ Dorio snapped.

  ‘Hmm, so when you asked what use a one-armed Decurion could be, it was a meaningless comment, was it?’ Vivius asked.

  Dorio scowled at him. Lucanus sat down curiously at the table.

  ‘If I saddled a horse, could you manage a journey through Jerusalem?’

  ‘Why?’

  Vivius rested his elbows on the table. ‘What I am about to tell you is in the strictest confidence.’ It crossed his mind that he was beginning to make a habit of breaking the emperor’s strict orders for confidence. ‘I’m here under orders from the emperor.’

  Lucanus banged his fist on the table. ‘I knew it! I knew there had to be more to that break-in than petty thieving.’

  Dorio was startled. ‘What break-in?’

  ‘Oh, you missed all the fun.’ Lucanus said in a tone of self-importance. ‘We had an intruder when you were at the infirmary. But I tackled him single-handedly. He was a big man but I wrestled him to the floor, and then I…’

  Vivius held up his hand before Lucanus embellished his story further. ‘I’m only telling you, Dorio, because I believe you can help.’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘My investigation. It’s in the interests of Rome.’

  ‘In the interests of Rome? You must be joking. Do I look in any condition to look after the interests of Rome?’