Pilate's Wife

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Pilate's Wife Page 29

by Antoinette May


  “This is your domina, you fool,” Livia’s groom snapped.

  The porter backed away, wide-eyed, bowing profusely. Another unfamiliar face appeared, tall with close-cropped gray hair and an air of quiet authority. “I am Hieronymus, your new steward,” he said, bowing even lower than the flustered porter, who was sent in search of Pilate. I hurriedly dismissed Livia’s groom, sending him back to her. The less the empress knew of my affairs, the better.

  The steward led me down a marble corridor toward a sunlit atrium. Feeling like a stranger in my own home, I looked beyond him into the interior, perhaps a hundred feet or more of successive vistas, light and shadow. I had not expected the villa to be so large. Perhaps, I speculated, Pilate intends for me to live here with Marcella, while he merely visits from time to time as affairs permit. Could that be his plan? How wonderful…if only.

  I paused, waiting for Pilate in the atrium. This was an old home, I realized now, the plantings lush and rare. I looked at the splashing marble fountain, the thick pillars wrapped in flowering vines, and thought of Holtan. If only this were our home. Such fantasy. I did not even know if Holtan was all right. He had been bleeding when I last saw him. How could I trust Livia about anything?

  Suddenly Pilate was there, towering over me. His eyes searched mine with frightening intensity. “Did you have a good time?”

  Heart pounding, I forced a smile. “Such a question! I was with Livia.”

  “What did she want of you?”

  “Did Livia not tell you?” I asked, stalling for time. What was he thinking? “She promised to send word.”

  “She did. One of her slaves appeared on the doorstep three days ago.”

  Three days…I had not even reached Holtan’s villa. How sure of herself the empress was. Why should that surprise me? “What did he say?”

  “Only that you were Livia’s guest.”

  “Hardly a guest! She forced me to attend the Mysteries.”

  “The Mysteries!” I felt his eyes, curious, speculating. “Why didn’t you send word from Rome that you would be delayed?”

  “I didn’t know then. Livia and I met on the road. She practically abducted me, insisted that I join her in Pompeii.”

  Pilate raised a quizzical brow. “How extraordinary.”

  “I thought so too, but what could I do? She is Livia.”

  “Indeed. What could you do? I trust you were not…hurt in any way?”

  “I am fine,” I assured him. “I want to see Marcella. Where is she?”

  “She’s been crying for you off and on all day. I just left her. She’s sleeping.”

  “I must see her.” I slipped from his light grasp. The door to Marcella’s room was closed, but I quietly opened it and tiptoed past Rachel, who looked up, a relieved smile lighting her face as I approached.

  My child’s small form was bathed in the glow of a lamp placed beside her couch. A craftsman had fashioned it in the shape of her sweet little foot. I longed to hold Marcella but contented myself with watching her sleep. My eyes caressed her delicate features, the soft dark curls.

  “She’s very much like you,” Pilate murmured. He was at my side.

  “More like my sister, I think.”

  “At times she does remind me of the other Marcella…but then, so do you.”

  Oh, Isis! What does he mean by that? I turned, tiptoeing out to the hall. Pilate followed.

  “Marcella is precious,” he said, echoing my own thoughts. “I couldn’t bear to lose her. Could you?”

  “What a question! I would rather die.” My heart raced. Was he threatening me? Then I remembered Pilate’s loss, Titania’s boy. I looked up, saw for the first time the pale face, the bloodshot eyes. The man was grieving. My apprehension gave way to sympathy. It was unthinkable to lose a child. I lifted my hand, touched his face for an instant, longing to comfort him. There was so much to say, yet none of it could be said. “I am tired.” I excused myself. “The Mysteries…”

  “You look exhausted. The empress must have been demanding.”

  A WEEK PASSED. PILATE SAW FEW CLIENTS AND REMAINED AT HOME. I felt his thoughtful eyes and was grateful that the Mysteries were secret even to husbands. Then one morning I stepped out onto a balcony and found Pilate staring at the sea. It was a gorgeous summer day. Blue, blue, blue everywhere. Turquoise, indigo, sapphire. Crystal shallows, deep waters, distant sky. Our new villa, with its back to the hillside, its face to the bay, had been built for this sublime panorama.

  My eyes traveled to a loosely wrapped scroll that he tapped idly against the wall. It bore the imperial seal. My pulse quickened. “What is it?”

  Pilate handed the scroll to me. “See for yourself.”

  Hurriedly, I scanned the column of script. “What is this? You are to be governor of Judaea!” I exclaimed, looking up at him. “Your first command! I am so happy for you, so proud of you.”

  Pilate shrugged slightly, frowning. “Judaea has always been a trouble spot, the thorn in Tiberius’s side.”

  “Then it is an opportunity to show him what you can do. Judaea is Rome’s bulwark against the Parthians. The emperor has confidence in you or he would not offer such a challenge.”

  “I am glad you see it that way. Many find Judaea’s mountains and deserts attractive. I hope you will. Jerusalem is ugly, I hear. The palace there hasn’t been renovated in sixty years—not since Antonius and Cleopatra’s state visit. Except for official inspections, we need never go there. The provincial palace in Caesarea will be more to your taste. It’s considered a showplace. Of course, you can make whatever changes you like to either—”

  I stepped back. “I hadn’t thought to accompany you, I—”

  Pilate lifted my chin, tilting it so our eyes met. “It is my first command. I want you at my side, sharing it with me.” His cool eyes searched my face. “Even Tiberius thinks it best that you accompany me. Look”—he pointed toward the bottom of the scroll—“the emperor mentions your ‘unique instincts.’”

  It had not taken Livia long to put her plan in motion. A word to Tiberius and I was effectively banished. Must she always have her way? My thoughts turned to Holtan in Rome. Judaea was the other side of the world. How could I bear to leave him? I couldn’t. Then I recalled my vision, saw Holtan’s anguished face as he whispered my name. If separation was the only way to ensure his life…

  “I must have time,” I said at last. If only I could stay on in this lovely house, never seeing Holtan, but at least knowing that he was near.

  “Not much time, Claudia.”

  THE FOLLOWING DAY I RETURNED FROM A WALK ON THE BEACH TO FIND Livia waiting in the nymphaneum. Whether by chance or design, the couch the empress reclined upon was beneath a statue of Priapus, guardian and motivator of fertility. The villa’s previous owners had rubbed the crown of his huge marble phallus shiny smooth with their passing hands. Had it brought them luck? I would need more than that if Livia decided to tell Pilate about Holtan.

  She wasted no time with greetings. “You betrayed me!” she accused. “You have made no plans to accompany Pilate to Judaea.”

  “How do you know that!”

  She shrugged impatiently. “How do I know anything! Don’t waste more of my time. This is a splendid opportunity for your husband, exactly the chance for which he has been conniving. Too bad Herod the Great is not alive—a delightful man, very popular in Rome. Once the entire senate stood to applaud him…” She paused, lost in thought. “Yes, Herod was a clever one—holding off the Parthians, all the while keeping that barbaric country of his own together. No one has done a decent job since. Of course, his family life was a bit strange. My dear husband once said that it was safer to be Herod’s pig than his relative.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Judaeans have some foolish proscription against eating pork.”

  Where was this leading? “But Herod?”

  “He was obsessed with the idea that one of his many sons might seize the throne. Before it was over Herod killed s
ome forty family members—many of them his own children.” Slamming the table with her fan, Livia turned to face me squarely. “Enough chatter. I find your ingratitude foolishly dangerous.”

  I shivered despite the dazzling sunlight, but kept my voice steady. “You of all people know how complicated the situation is.”

  “Indeed. Then I shall uncomplicate it.” With a snap of her ringed fingers Livia signaled a passing slave. “Fetch your dominus at once,” she commanded. Turning to me, the empress smiled. “No doubt Pilate finds your reluctance puzzling. I think it is time we enlightened him.”

  “No! No, there’s no need for that.”

  “Too late, my dear. A pity that you will never see your daughter again, and, as for your precious Holtan—I will have him flogged to death. It will take a long time for a man that strong to die. Perhaps we can arrange for you to watch.”

  I stood facing her, my hands gripping the back of a bench to support my trembling body.

  “Please,” I begged, my voice a hoarse whisper. At that moment, Pilate entered the atrium.

  Livia smiled benignly at him. “Your lovely wife and I have been discussing your appointment. I believe she has something to tell you.”

  PART IV

  CAESAREA

  in the sixteenth year of the reign of Tiberius (30 C.E.)

  CHAPTER 30

  In the Temple of the Lord

  As the Persephone swung out from the harbor, she seemed to sprout oars, twenty on either side of her sleek hull. The luxury cruiser, Sejanus’s parting gift to us, had been painted purple in my honor. Belowdecks a drum rumbled and the blades dipped. More thunder and they splashed the surface, two men pulling on each shaft. The ship glided forward—slowly at first, then picking up speed as the drumbeats quickened. Too soon the Bay of Neapolis slipped from view.

  Day after day I sat under a rippling awning staring out at the twin blues of sea and sky.

  The smooth voyage gave me too much time to think. Was Isis laughing at me? Had she been laughing all along? Once I had prayed so earnestly for Pilate’s love, zealously repeating her incantation. Had the goddess heard my prayers and granted the object of my desires or had it all been merely a girlish fantasy gone wrong? Pilate did, indeed, want me as his wife, yet what did that matter? Our union seemed so foolish, so misbegotten, now that I had tasted real love. What need was there for potions and incantations? Holtan and I had known from the beginning. I smiled sadly, thinking of Isis and her Osiris. Their love seemed very like our own.

  One day Rachel joined me at the railing. Reminded of yet another sorrow, I turned to her, forcing a smile. “You must be very happy, returning at last to your homeland.”

  Rachel shrugged, her face turned away toward the sea.

  “Pilate and I spoke last night. He—we have decided to free you. It is only right that you return at last to your family. Pilate will present your manumission papers at a ceremony. It will be rather grand—Herod Antipas and his court, possibly a few of those high priests, the Sanhedrin. Your family, of course, in the places of honor.”

  “I have no family,” Rachel said, turning to face me. “They are all gone—dead.” She started to move away, but I caught her arm. Held it. “I thought your father was an adviser to Herod the Great.”

  “He was a most trusted adviser, but he was also a Pharisee and a patriot. Father hated Herod’s garish shrine. He believed the world was God’s temple and thought that men should be their own priests. Herod would not hear of such talk. The Temple was his proclamation: ‘See how good I am, see how grand.’”

  I shook my head impatiently. “That is merely philosophy. Your father was a member of the court. One doesn’t reach such a position without compromise.”

  “He would have been the first to agree with you,” Rachel said. “Father was an idealist but not unworldly. He understood Herod’s need to reassure the fundamentalists at home and still show the world that he was more than Rome’s client king.”

  I nodded. “It would seem that he achieved his goal. Jerusalem’s Temple is the biggest in the world. Even in Rome, they say, ‘He who has never seen Herod’s Temple has never seen anything beautiful.’”

  “Beautiful, yes,” Rachel agreed. “But the abomination he added—”

  “I don’t understand—”

  “My father was an orthodox man. He put his faith in the Law, he lived the Law. The Second Commandment is clear: no graven images. Over the years Judaeans have learned to live with them. Pagan images are everywhere—in public baths, theaters, civic buildings—but when Herod placed a huge eagle with outstretched wings over the very temple itself…”

  “An unfortunate impropriety,” I agreed, but reminded her, “He was the king. If that’s the worst he did—”

  “Yes, yes, Father recognized that. Unfortunately, my brother, Aaron, did not. Father’s closest friend was Aaron’s teacher, a devout Pharisee who came often to our home, talked late into the night. Aaron was fourteen, eager to be a man, listening to every word. His teacher was incensed by the eagle and spoke of tearing it down. Father was horrified. He warned the firebrand, reminded him that Herod was dying, each breath an agony. ‘Be patient,’ Father admonished and thought no more about it.

  “Then one morning the Pharisee scholar delivered a lecture on the wages of sin. It was sin, he said, that caused Herod’s illness, sin that burned and gnawed at his bowels. The time had come to remove the eagle no matter what the risk. Aaron was just young enough, idealistic and foolish enough, to rally to the cause. He and some forty other boys ran to the temple, scrambled over the walls, and chopped the blasphemous eagle to pieces.”

  Rachel’s voice was cool and calm, almost as though it had all happened to some one else. “Of course, they were thrown into prison. We prayed that Herod might die before they could be sentenced, but Yahweh wasn’t listening. Perhaps we merely amused him—like some board game played by ants. My father was hacked to pieces by guards as he knelt at Herod’s bedside begging clemency for his son. Soldiers threw Mother from the tower when our home was taken. One of Herod’s last acts was to sell me into slavery. He lived long enough to watch the boys, Aaron among them, burned alive.”

  “Rachel, Rachel, dear.” I held her stiff body in my arms. “I am sorry, so sorry. I knew nothing. You never told me. What can I do for you now? Are you afraid to go home—afraid of Herod’s heirs? Do not forget that Pilate is now the foremost man in Judaea. We can still free you, send you anywhere you care to go.”

  “Herod was a madman. Only two sons remain, Antipas and Philip. Surely they praise Fortuna every day for their own lives. They would scarcely remember a screaming child. I have nothing to fear in Judaea and no wish to be anywhere but with you.”

  ON THE MORNING OF THE FIFTEENTH DAY AT SEA, I SPIED CAESAREA sparkling in the distance.

  Pilate stood beside me as we approached, his long, elegant fingers drumming impatiently on the rail. Sounds of the city floated toward us as ships and buildings drifted into view. I had been told that Caesarea was one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Glancing up at the exquisite temple to Caesar that overlooked the harbor, I believed it. Houses, white for the most part, spilled down palm-shaded terraces toward the docks. People waved from windows, crowded balconies. As the Persephone sailed into the harbor, a cheer went up from the shore. Flowers, bright blossoms everywhere, drums and flutes, red-robed ministers lined up to welcome us.

  The gangplank swayed over the water, crush and noise, bags and boxes at the ready. Since I was a child, the prospect of new places had filled me with wonder and excitement. Now, so far from Holtan, I felt only despair. Rachel brought Marcella out on deck. My child squealed, holding her arms out to me, but it was Pilate who took her. “This is Caesarea, my little one,” he said, holding Marcella up to see the spectacle before us.

  Looking at me over our daughter’s curly head, he added, “We will all be very happy in Judaea.”

  IF MATERIAL POSSESSIONS COULD MAKE FOR HAPPINESS, WE HAD THEM in abundance.
Our palace was grand. My apartment was large, with rooms overlooking the sea, balcony after balcony, each a hanging garden. I dedicated the largest to Isis, making a shrine of it with flowers and soft rugs surrounding her statue. Every day I meditated there, but not for long—my social schedule left little time. With a dining room large enough for one hundred couches, Pilate expected me to entertain often. By now I did it easily. Banquets for three hundred were not uncommon. I thought often of Mother. She would have adored my life. I was merely grateful to be kept busy.

  Caesarea, built by Herod the Great as a tribute to Julius Caesar, tried hard to be Rome and in many ways succeeded. The city boasted a marble theater that would hold five thousand people and one of the largest amphitheaters in the world. Pilate officiated at state rituals in Caesar’s temple. The statues to which he raised his eyes were those of Augustus, Jupiter, and Roma, comforting images of home. I saw more Romans, Greeks, and Syrians on the streets than Jews.

  If all of Judaea had been like Caesarea, Pilate’s job would have been easy. Unfortunately, nothing could change the fact that it was the Hebrews that my husband had been sent to govern. His entire future depended on it.

  Pilate’s first action was to dispatch a small troop of soldiers to Jerusalem with orders to display the Roman eagle standards before Antonia. Such a small thing. Antonia was a Roman garrison. The eagles had not been taken into their temple. I was as shocked as Pilate by the reaction.

  The Jews were aghast at the intrusion of “graven images” into their sacred city. Within two days, more than a hundred of them journeyed by foot over mountains and through valleys to prostrate themselves before our palace in Caesarea. Shivering in the fall chill, they swayed and moaned, praying that the governor would be moved to take down the accursed eagles. In the face of Roman soldiers with swords drawn, the supplicants remained day after day. Pilate watched from the palace, growing increasingly uncomfortable with their presence.

 

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