CHAPTER 36
A Triumph
Rain came late to Judaea that year. Once it arrived, it seemed to last forever. Feeling imprisoned in my villa, I listened to the wind roar down the mountains, roiling the waters of the lake. Then, miraculously, the sky cleared. Orchards and gardens blazed with color. The craggy hills, usually gray and bare, were carpeted with wildflowers. The lake’s rim glowed with golden poppies, purple lupine, and red anemones. All I could think of was Holtan’s message. Was he already waiting in Caesarea?
“It is time for Marcella and me to take a little trip to the seacoast,” I told Pilate at breakfast.
He looked at me, a brow raised slightly. I recognized the expression and braced myself. “Have you forgotten? We’re returning to Jerusalem day after tomorrow.”
I pouted, struggling to keep my tone light. “You know I hate that city.”
“And you know I must be there.”
Pilate’s cool determination threw me into a panic that I fought to conceal. “I will be so much happier, so much easier to be with…once I have had a holiday,” I wheedled. “We could go as far as Scythopolis together. From there Marcella and I can travel to the coast for a few days, then join you later in Jerusalem. You cannot expect me to spend the whole spring in that wretched town without the tiniest taste of sea air. Please, darling.” My mouth stretched in an effort to smile.
“Claudia, the answer is no.”
THE DAY OF OUR DEPARTURE FOR JERUSALEM DAWNED BRIGHTLY. FRANTIC with anxiety, I watched Marcella carefully lifted into a litter beside Rachel. Sun gleamed on the golden eagles surmounting the standards at its corners. “I want a horse too, Mama,” Marcella pleaded. “Let me ride with you and Tata.”
Pilate smiled at his daughter’s pleading eyes. “The litter is all very well for you now, but next year our little princess will be five. Then you will have your own pony and can ride between us.” Smiling broadly, he saluted Marcella, then turned and galloped to the head of the column.
His words sent a chill through me. Next year? Where would we be next year? Blowing a quick kiss to Marcella, I galloped off after him. The honor guard stood at attention. Camels snorted, donkeys brayed, horses pranced nervously. Everyone, it seemed, shared my husband’s eagerness to be off. Once I was beside him, Pilate turned and raised his arm, signaling to the assembled caravan. We moved forward.
After a few hours of riding, the village of Scythopolis came into view. My stomach knotted as we approached the fork in the road, south to Jerusalem, west to the sea. Striving to sound casual, I turned to Pilate. “I still want to go to Caesarea.”
“Enough of that. You’re coming with me. It’s too much trouble to rearrange everything.”
“Not at all. Whatever Marcella needs for the journey is in the litter with her. It is not as though she does not have a whole palace full of toys and clothes in Caesarea.” Why was Pilate making this so difficult? “I will only be gone for a few days,” I persisted.
“No! I want you and Marcella with me.” He signaled abruptly and the caravan stopped. “We’ll eat our noon meal up there.” He gestured toward a grassy knoll some distance above the road. Men hurried about covering the ground with rich rugs. Soon the savory smell of roasting meat filled the air. I reclined on brightly woven pillows, between Pilate and Marcella. The hills around us were covered with flowers, purple hyacinths and iris, bright daffodils, and everywhere star-shaped blooms of the purest white. I plucked at a dark green thistle. The tiny blossom at the center was red as blood. I flung it away.
Marcella sat up, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Who are those people, Tata?”
I followed her pointing finger and saw a small procession of pilgrims on the road below us. Villagers from Scythopolis, many carrying palm branches, ran to greet them. “Hosanna!” some cried out to the wayfarers.
Pilate smiled condescendingly. “One would hardly call it a triumph.”
“Not the kind we are used to in Rome, but perhaps it is to them,” I said. “At least the pilgrims are riding. No one is ragged, and their donkeys look well fed.”
Marcella leaned forward. “What are they saying?”
I strained to hear. “It sounds like ‘Blessed be he who comes in the name of the Lord.’”
Pilate frowned. “What ‘Lord’? Who are they talking about?”
I shrugged, my thoughts returning to Holtan; what was I to do? “Surely no one of any importance,” I responded vaguely. “No one we know.” My eyes drifted absently, following the train of pilgrims below us. Suddenly I spotted a familiar face. Miriam! Miriam and Jesus. What now? Where are they going?
Pilate looked at me curiously. “You know one of those people?”
“The woman with red hair—the pretty one—riding beside the man in white.”
Pilate looked again. “Pretty, indeed! I know her too, she’s one of the most successful courtesans in Rome.”
“Not anymore,” I informed him.
“How do you know that?” he demanded. “How do you know her at all?”
I caught myself, realizing that I had already said too much. “Livia introduced us, then I chanced to meet her again—in the market. Love appears to have changed her.” I watched as Miriam leaned over and whispered something in Jesus’ ear. He turned, head thrown back, as he laughed. The laugh I remembered from the wedding…then the vision that followed. What did it mean? What terrible thing lay ahead for them?
“What is it?” Pilate wanted to know. “What’s the matter? You look frightened. Who is that man?”
Surely it was a figment of my imagination. Had I not problems enough without imagining more? There was nothing I could do to help them. I forced a shrug. “Miriam believes him to be the messiah.”
Pilate frowned. “Not another messiah.”
“This one preaches only peace,” I quickly assured him. I remembered Joanna’s words, my own experience with the wine. “He preaches peace and is said to perform miracles. Miriam thinks he is wonderful.” I paused a moment, studying the man on the road below. “Perhaps she is right.”
I felt Pilate’s eyes. “Really?” He watched me intently. “So tell me, Claudia, what constitutes a miracle for you? What would it take for you to think I am wonderful, for you to look at me as Miriam looks at that man?”
“Something quite simple.” I tilted my head back to look up at him. “Something like allowing me a day or two in Caesarea.”
“It would take nearly a day just to get there.”
“So? A day here, a day there—is that so important? For me to get my way just once, would that not be a miracle?”
Pilate’s dark brows knit in thought. “Very well,” he responded. “Enjoy your few days by the sea, but Marcella will remain with me.”
“Oh no!” I gasped. “She needs to be with me.”
“She’ll have Rachel and a nurse.”
“I cannot go without her.”
“Of course you can. As you said, ‘a day or two.’ Go now if you like. I’ll send an honor guard with you. And soon—very soon, I think—we’ll all be together. You and I and Marcella in Jerusalem. You won’t tarry long without her.”
IT WAS A LONG TRIP TO CAESAREA, YET WHEN I FINALLY REACHED THE palace that night thoughts of Holtan kept me awake until dawn. The governor’s palace was a landmark. He would find it, learn quickly that I was there. Remembering all the clever ruses Holtan had devised for our secret meetings in Rome, I was certain that he would find a way to reach me. But he did not. Two days passed without a word from him. Where was he? What was wrong? Searching for him was risky, but how much longer could I wait? Finally, I could stand the suspense no longer. I would begin my quest at the wharf. Surely, I reasoned, anyone there would have news of the gladiatorial combat in Cyprus, possibly even know Holtan’s whereabouts.
Pilate’s litter waited my use by the palace entrance. It was an imposing affair, canopied in satin and crusted in gold leaf. Pilate’s personal flag, borne by a burly soldier, whipped in the breeze. I squared my sh
oulders and stepped in.
There was nothing I could do about the honor guard—six soldiers. Pilate had ordered them to accompany me everywhere. They would obey those orders no matter what I said. Holtan would find a way to deal with them. I knew he would. In the meantime, there was nothing unusual about my wish to visit the wharf. Ships docked daily bringing messages and papers of state to Pilate. I had taken Marcella there often to watch the cargo unloaded. Frequently we lingered to buy green figs or pink slices of melon from one of the many vendors crowding the wharf. Always we had stood in awe watching the snake charmer sitting cross-legged on his mat, playing a pipe with one black serpent draped about his shoulders while another rose groggily from the basket. Already I missed Marcella and thought longingly of her. Holtan will get her for me, I reassured myself, Holtan can do anything.
The slaves gleamed with sweat when at last they helped me to alight before a large merchant ship. Protected by a half-moon-shaped quay of massive stones, the lone vessel rested against the wharf. A wharf that was curiously deserted. Where was the snake charmer? Even the beggars were gone. Passengers, hurrying to disembark, jockeyed for position on the crowded gangplank with sailors struggling to unload cargo. Some of them seemed almost frantic, the others…what was wrong with them?
The soldiers escorting my litter muttered uneasily among themselves. Signaling them to remain behind, I lifted my chiton slightly and pushed my way up the swarming gangplank. The deck was a mass of confusion, people shoving one another this way and that. In the midst of it a young officer struggled to maintain order. With difficulty, I made my way toward him. “Looks like a very crowded ship,” I said, smiling sympathetically.
“Yes, Domina. Many from Cyprus fought to get on. They were eager to pay anything. Now I fear it was our captain who paid too high a price.”
My heart contracted. “Why? What’s wrong? Some of these people look—”
As I spoke, a familiar face appeared on deck—Julian, Holtan’s body slave. He and another man carried a large trunk.
“Where’s Holtan!” I cried, pushing toward him.
“He is below. No! Domina, wait—” Julian cried as I rushed past him toward the stairs. The officer grabbed me, holding me roughly by the shoulders. “Get off this cursed ship, get off while you can.” I shoved with all my might, taking him by surprise. In that instant I slipped loose and ran for the stairs.
Below, the narrow passage was clogged with people laden with possessions, jostling one another as they shoved their way forward. What did caution matter now? “Holtan, the gladiator, where is he?” I cried out. No one appeared to hear or even take note of me. Passengers and crew pushed and fought as though panic stricken. There was a smell too, an awful smell, vomit, and something more. Holding a scarf over my nose, I struggled forward, calling as I went for Holtan.
Finally I heard his voice. “Here, Claudia, behind you.”
Turning, I saw him at the end of the narrow passageway shoving his way toward me. I fought my way back through the crowd, at last flinging my arms about him.
“What in Hades are you doing here?” he growled, pushing me back.
I looked up in surprise. Didn’t Holtan realize what I had gone through, the risk I was taking? Then, as my eyes swept over him, I saw that his face was pale and lined with fatigue. I wanted to take him in my arms and kiss away the weariness.
“I came to be with you, dear one. Are you not glad? Is this not what you wanted, what we wanted? Your message—I came as soon as I could. I thought there would be some word from you. I could wait no longer.”
“You should not have come. Go back, go now,” he said, shoving me away.
“Go back! Your messenger told Rachel that you had a plan. Whatever it is, I will do it—do anything, go anywhere as long as we are together.”
“I did have—I do have a plan.” Holtan spoke slowly, haltingly. “But now…now I want you to take Marcella and get out of Caesarea as fast as possible.”
My lips trembled, my voice caught. “I had to leave Marcella with Pilate. We must get her. You will think of a way, won’t you?” I looked up at him expectantly.
Relief flickered in Holtan’s bloodshot eyes. “Marcella is in Jerusalem? You can thank your goddess for that. Go back to her. Trust me, go now.” His hands still held me at arms length.
“I won’t,” I protested, trying to free myself. “I am not going anywhere without you. Do you think I have risked everything to leave you now?”
Holtan braced himself against a door frame. “Then wait for me at your palace.” He released me; one hand caressed my hair. “I will send for you later. Just leave now.” He pushed me away again, reeling as though drunk.
An engulfing fear swept over me; I struggled for control. Moving once again to face Holtan, I placed a hand on his moist cheek. “There is a plague on this ship and you have got it, haven’t you?”
He swayed unsteadily. “Fortuna…has played a bad joke on us.”
I braced him with my arms. “Since when did you give up so easily?”
“I have seen so many die, Claudia.”
“You are not going to die! I won’t let you.” I looked up at the face I loved so well and saw death waiting. You will not take him! I will wrestle you to the very bowels of Hades. You will not take Holtan from me!
CHAPTER 37
Holtan’s Request
I sat looking out at the sea. The day had grown increasingly hot; I was grateful for the breeze. Oh, where was that physician? Why did he not come! I had exhausted my memory, wracking my brain for all that I had learned years ago at the Iseneum. The knowledge of herbs that had served me well with Marcella’s childhood fevers proved useless. Holtan vomited the potion of passiflora and matricaria. The calming valerian had no effect. If anything, the poultice of mustard seed raised his temperature. Nothing was working. Mother Isis, save him. Do not let him die! Do not take him from me now!
Holtan stirred restlessly on the couch beside me. “Where am I?” he asked, waking slowly. His thick, rasping voice slurred the words. Scowling as his eyes found me, he shouted, “I told you to get out of here.”
“You are in a safe place. Trust me, dearest, I am going to make you well. I promise that I will.”
“Claudia—please! Save yourself while you still can. Get out! Go now, leave me.” When I did not respond, Holtan lowered his voice, speaking clearly and rationally. “I will be dead by tomorrow. If you stay, you will die, too.” He struggled to sit up, almost falling off the couch.
With a sudden shove, I forced him back onto the cushions. At least now I was stronger than he. I could keep him from harming himself further.
“Where am I?” he asked again. “Is this your palace? Surely you did not take me there!”
I had never before seen fear in Holtan’s eyes. I knew it was for me. “No, dearest,” I reassured him. “We’re in a small inn. My honor guard brought you here. It is a quiet place on the outskirts of town. We have everything necessary.” I placed a fresh compress on his brow. “All you need do is rest. You will be well again very soon.”
Holtan sighed. “Claudia, my dear, dear Claudia, if the plague does not get you, Pilate will. What did you tell his soldiers about me?”
“That you are an army friend of my father’s. You can thank Isis that they were with me. When your slaves and I tried to get you off the ship, city guards blocked the gang plank. No one was allowed to leave. Without my men and their weapons, we would be trapped there with the others. After the soldiers brought us here, I sent them back to the palace.”
“They will talk—”
I shrugged. “What else could I do? Hopefully, Pilate’s too busy keeping the peace to think of me. All those thousands of pilgrims pouring into Jerusalem for their festival should keep him occupied.”
Holtan smiled weakly. “I feel old enough to be your father’s friend, but were they not suspicious…I can’t remember…”
“You were unconscious.” I soothed him as I would Marcella. “I told them you
had had too much to drink, the innkeeper too—a gold coin took care of him.”
“Julian? Where is Julian?” Holtan’s voice had dropped to a whisper.
I could see the effort of talking had exhausted him. “Julian is downstairs getting food and water. Your other man, Ajax, is outside guarding us.”
Holtan took my hand, grasped it tight. “You did…well…everything right…I…love…you. If you…love me…go now. Give me that, Claudia. Go…while…” His grip loosened. Holtan’s words slurred and he lay still.
I could not tell if he was conscious or not. His eyes were half open, but he no longer seemed aware of me. Then, suddenly, without warning, he sat up and vomited onto the floor, retching with such violence I thought he would tear out his stomach. Fear and revulsion swept over me. What should I do, what could I do?
Hearing a sound behind me, I turned to find Julian standing in the doorway, his dark eyes wide. I reached into the small leather bag at my waist. Gold coins glittered as I held out my hand. “Take half of these now. You will have the rest when you find that physician and return with him. And—and look at this.” Quickly I picked up the ruby amulet that Holtan had been wearing about his neck. “You know the value. It is yours if you remain with us until Dominus has recovered.”
Julian shook his head, his expression adamant. A large, long-legged man, he crossed the room in an instant and stood at my side. “Keep it. Dominus saved my life more than once. I will never leave him. The king of Cyprus awarded him that ruby but three days ago. He wanted it for you.”
“Isis bless you,” I murmured, tears of gratitude stinging my eyes. I took the tray from him and placed it on the table. “Go now, go quickly. Find that doctor and bring him here.” Turning back to Holtan, I dropped my scarf in a bowl of water on the table beside us, wrung it out, and sponged the vomit from his gaunt face.
Hours passed, an eternity, as the sun slipped lower on the horizon. I supported Holtan, holding the vessel, watching with horror and pity and mounting rage while my lover retched again and again. His lips were cracked, his face receding to bone. He retained not even a drop of water and, despite the heat of the day, shivered as though freezing.
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