The Eighth Veil

by Frederick Ramsay

  “Yes, but you see—”

  “I see nothing, but I have no doubt your queen does even as we speak.” He turned toward the screens, which one to address he didn’t know, so he spoke in both directions. “I would say to her, if she were here, ‘Highness, please make both of our days easier and the duration of this investigation shorter and be as forthcoming as you possibly can.’”

  The steward sat back in confused silence and glanced anxiously at the wall to the left. So that is where the observers sat—good to know. Who else, Gamaliel wondered sat with her? He guessed his plea may have fallen on deaf ears. He also knew that royalty danced to a different tune played on the asor than the rest of humanity. Nothing stirred. He did not expect a response. The queen would not acknowledge the fact she’d eavesdropped in any event. He waited.

  “So tell me, Steward, are you married? Are there children in your household? We must keep each other company for the next several days so I would like to know something of you.”

  “I am, Rabban, married that is. Joanna is my wife. Perhaps, as Rabban, you have heard of her?”

  Gamaliel thought he heard the scrape of a chair being moved and furtive footsteps behind the lattice but he could not be sure. He felt a momentary draft on his feet as if a door had been opened and shut somewhere. Cool air with a hint of damp. From where? Some other part of the palace perhaps, but how could that be?

  “How would I have heard of your wife, Steward? I get out but seldom and never to the King’s Court.”

  “Not from the court. No, I thought it may have been brought to your attention by the authorities in the Temple. She is one of those who have thrown in with the Galilean rabbi. She was not well and…disturbed you could say.”

  “Disturbed? What exactly does that mean?”

  “She behaved oddly. She attributes her healing to the rabbi. So now, she supports him with her time and my money.”

  “Does she indeed? And how do you feel about that? Have you so little money you cannot forfeit some of it in that way?”

  “To give money to a rabbi is a good thing so we are taught. Is it not written that you do the Lord’s work when you pay the teachers? How can I object? It is not so much the money as…the other thing.”

  “The other thing? First, it is true enough that the teachers deserve your support, but why this one and not some other more noteworthy, more acceptable rabbi, one closer to hand than a Galilean?”

  Chuzas only shrugged.

  “Did not Solomon tell us, ‘Two things rob a man of peace, a yelping dog and a forward woman,’ Chuzas? Is that the other thing of which you spoke?”

  “Yes and, well is it not also written, Rabban, ‘A wife of noble character is her husband’s crown.’ Yes?”

  “Yes, ‘but a disgraceful one is like decay in his bones.’ Be careful with your words. Wisdom has to be discerned, Steward, before it is dispensed. Are you content with her divided loyalty?”

  “Divided? How so?”

  “Steward, many may wish to dispute it, and I for one have reservations as to the extent of it, but we hold that a wife must first follow the lead of her husband. A woman may not feel this dictum is just, may rail against the imposition it forces upon her, but it is our way. I would soften it if I could. Perhaps someday, I shall. But for now it is as it is. If your Joanna follows a rabbi not of your choosing, her loyalty is divided in three ways. She will be following this rabbi, following her own will, and only lastly following you. This last is highly debatable, but in any event, one third of a wife is no wife at all.”

  Chuzas face reddened. “What can I do? This man is persuasive and the little I hear of his teaching, attractive. He has other followers in the court, I am ashamed to say. They have the ability to sway the interests of some, in a general way, of course. There is, after all, the Law and so on.”

  “Yes, and so on…you have a problem to struggle with, my friend. It is a problem that causes you much distress, I gather. That is what I hear in the tone of your answers at any rate. My advice to you is to deal with it directly and soon. Your wife may admire her rabbi, but her loyalty must remain with you.”

  “You are right, of course. But still, it is not so easy. I am not unaware, Rabban of my position. It is not fair to say I have nothing.”

  “Indeed? You will tell me of your measures?”

  Chuzas looked away and said nothing. Gamaliel studied the man for a moment. “Very well, then tell me, who are these others in the king’s household that are in sympathy with this man?”

  Chuzas looked uncomfortable. “It is not for me to say, but there are some.”

  “Not of the king’s company?” Chuzas only shrugged and any further thoughts he might have advanced about the rabbi and his putative followers evaporated at the appearance of the queen. The two men stood and bowed.

  “Majesty,” Gamaliel said. “You are most kind to grant us this hour of your time. I will do my best to be brief and to the point.”

  Herodias nodded and took her place on the chair prepared for her which, because of her position, had been placed on a low platform so that her head and shoulders were higher than those of the two men.

  “Ma’am, can you describe for me the events of the evening in question, that is to say, the night of the murder of the unfortunate young woman?”

  “I can add nothing to what I am sure you have been told by everyone else. We dined, there was music, and then the king and I retired. Whatever happened in the baths is not known to us. Had we been aware that some members of the court had adopted the ways of the Romans and the Greeks before them, we most certainly would have put a stop to it. It is a blasphemy, is it not?”

  “It is a breach of the Law, certainly. Then you are telling me, Majesty, that neither you nor the king had any knowledge of the events that took place after the evening’s dining and entertainment, that is to say, in the baths?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Excuse the impertinence, but how can that be? Everyone in the court seemed to know and many have testified it was a common occurrence. Even Chuzas, your steward knew. Are you saying he did not tell you?”

  “I am.” She turned on the steward with a scowl. “You were remiss, Steward. Your negligence in this will be punished.”

  Well, Gamaliel thought, that’s neatly done. Indeed, the mother is not only bolder in her lies than the daughter, but foolishly so. Only someone protected by the royal seal would dare to disclaim what everyone else knew and knew she knew as well.

  “I see.” He lifted the medallion from the table at his side. Herodias seemed briefly nonplussed. She must have assumed he would ask about the cloth. “Do you, by any chance, recognize this Majesty?” He held it out to her. She took it in her right hand. As she brought it towards her, it slipped from her fingers and fell onto the tiles. Gamaliel reached and retrieved the medallion and did not offer it back to her. Something had changed in its appearance.

  “I do not believe I have ever seen the thing,” she said.

  “No? Well thank you then for your time, I have no further questions.”

  “Indeed? You summon me from my chambers to ask if I know of this bauble and that is all?”

  “For now, yes. You have been most helpful.”

  She rose and with as much dignity a short and slightly plump woman could manage, swayed from the room. When she had cleared the doorway, Gamaliel leaned to Chuzas and said, “We will see the king after the noonday meal. I have an important errand I must attend to. He rose and left a thoroughly befuddled Chuzas in the center of the room and he guessed several others behind the screen as well.

  “Oh, and one more thing, I wish to speak to this man, the king’s companion, Menahem, as soon as possible after his Highness.”

  The beaded curtain rattled behind him as he made for the street.

  Chapter X

  One could buy nearly anything from fish to furniture in the market street that ran from the king’s palace to the temple. Located along its length as well were the craftsmen, m
olders of clay pots, silver and goldsmiths, and fabricators of jewelry, armor, clothing, and weapons. It was to one of the jewelers that Gamaliel now hurried. He had less than an hour to speak to his man and return to the place for his interview with the king. Enough time, surely, if the jeweler could answer his question. If he could not, tomorrow would be spent elsewhere in the city seeking one that could.

  Agon he knew from having briefly taught his son. He was a better jeweler than his son was a Talmudic student and by mutual agreement the son, after his very brief stint as a student, went to Caesarea Maritima to learn a more suitable trade. Study of the Torah was beyond his reach in spite of his genuine enthusiasm, and both parent and teacher knew it.

  “Agon, my friend, I have a question for you and I have precious little time to ask and receive your answer.”

  At the sight of the Rabban of the Sanhedrin, the three customers already in the store bowed and exited, whether from awe, fear, or respect he did not know.

  “Rabban, I am your humble servant as always. What is it you wish to know? I will answer if I can.”

  Gamaliel retrieved the pendent from the leather pouch at his side and laid it on the counter. “You see this pendant?”

  “Yes. What is it you wish to know about it?”

  “In the process of handing it to someone who shall be nameless, it accidently fell to the floor. You see here, at this point, some of the glaze has been chipped.”

  Agon picked up the piece and scrutinized it carefully. “Yes, I see that.”

  “You also see there appears to be metal beneath the glaze and something else as well?”

  Agon turned the piece over and back again. “May I inquire where this came from?”

  “My friend, for the moment my instinct tells me to withhold that information. There is a story, a bloody story, I fear, which is attached to that item. For your protection, it would be best that you not know where you saw this or what you may discover about it subsequently.”

  “I see.” After such a warning a lesser man might have shown at least some small indication of nervousness, but Agon had served as a soldier in one of the many noncitizen legions, the Roman Auxillae, before he took up the manufacture of precious trinkets. A painful limp and an ugly scar on his left leg attested to his service and its premature end. Gamaliel knew this and enough of the rest of the man’s life to know he could be trusted with the task he’d soon be handed.

  “What do you want me to do with this thing?”

  “I want to know everything about it that can be discerned from it. What do you see?”

  “The area where the glazing, if that is truly what this is…I doubt that, by the way…seems to have been engraved with some characters, possibly an inscription. I will venture a guess. It is only a guess, Rabban, be sure of that. This piece has been deliberately covered to disguise it from what it really is. Why, I cannot say. If I could read, I might be more specific. But it begs the question, does it not?”

  “Which is?”

  “Why would someone cover a golden pendant with this imitation glazing?”

  “Why indeed, unless, for some reason, he wished no one read what it says. If we uncover it, we may discover why.”

  “You wish me to remove this paste covering?”

  “Paste? Is that what it is? Maybe, a question first. Are you in possession of the skills necessary to replace it, exactly replace it, if I need to have it done?”

  Agon pulled the pendant closer, almost so that it touched his nose, and squinted at the break in the covering once more. “Near enough.”

  “Then let us peel it away and see what we have stumbled upon.”

  ***

  Herod Antipas had, by all accounts, his father’s imposing stature. His personality, however, could not match the genius of his mad parent. Where the elder was decisive, if emotionally erratic, Antipas waffled and wavered. He shared his parent’s lust for women, but had not the will or strength to cast the objects of his desire aside when they no longer pleased or were necessary. Thus, he now lived unknown and unloved in shadows created by the sheer magnitude of his late parent and exacerbated by the vaulting ambition of his new queen, his late brother’s wife, and mother of the now infamous Princess Salome.

  Gamaliel had returned to the room set aside for his interviews only moments before the king arrived. Unlike the queen and princess, his demeanor was surprisingly open and forthcoming. Because it was so, Gamaliel assumed the king knew absolutely nothing about either the murder or the circumstances surrounding it. It would be a safe wager that he would not be able to distinguish one servant girl from another as well. That observation alone convinced him that if he were to be told anything useful, it would be from one or another of the women. He doubted either would volunteer anything. There was one point, however, which he needed clarification on and that must come from the king. Who was the missing Graecus? Surely he would know.

  Herod entered with a necessary but modest show of pomp, not the sort one would expect in more public settings, but enough to remind the Rabban, if reminding were needed, with whom he was dealing. Gamaliel noted he seemed considerably older than his queen, perhaps by as much as a decade or more. Gamaliel reckoned it was an age when a man’s eye tended to wander and that would explain his ridiculous behavior with the princess and the aftermath of her performance. Lust outside his marriage was not something Gamaliel had experienced personally, or guessed ever would, but he knew from the confessions of others how the phenomenon made fools of men and harridans of their wives. Old men with failing…who were no longer…well, it was not a mystery why they behaved foolishly at a certain time in life. Gamaliel’s opinion of the king softened marginally.

  He struggled with how he should frame the question that had agitated him since his time with Agon, the jeweler. How to state it without revealing what he’d discovered and further tipping his hand as to the direction he planned to proceed in his inquiries. Before he could speak the king made the decision for him. He had a question of his own.

  “Honored Rabban, you are in possession of an amulet, I believe. It is of unusual design and construction I am told. May I see it?”

  Gamaliel had not expected the question, but years engaged in disputation on the more difficult interpretations of the Law had trained him to never let his expression reveal his thoughts, much less any surprise at being caught out.

  “You are correct, Highness, I am. Unfortunately, I cannot share it with you at this moment as it may be an important, nay a vital bit of evidence in our inquiries. I have secured it in a safe place until such time as I can make a determination as to whom it belonged and whence it came. Your wife the queen has seen it and disclaims any knowledge of its ownership among other things. Perhaps I can show it to you later.”

  “I see,” the King replied, decidedly uncomfortable.

  “Is there something I should know about the pendant?”

  “About it? Umm, well I was thinking perhaps someone had mislaid it. If I could see it I might be able to describe it and see it restored to its rightful owner.”

  Gamaliel smiled. I bet you would you old fox, he thought. Apparently the queen had talked to the king and Chuza had filled in details to them during the hour break between interviews, where it had been found, and with what other items. But as much as he might wish to, the king would not see it this day, perhaps never. Whether he or any of the royal family ever saw it again would depend on the skill of Agon the jeweler in restoring the false glazing on the one hand, and their lack of familiarity with the pendant’s details on the other.

  The king lowered his eyes and inspected the tiles on the floor as if they held the key to the mystery of life, or in this case, how best to couch an answer. He had a decision to make. Should he tacitly admit to having colluded with his queen and his steward about the pendant and admit to having a genuine interest in and knowledge about it, or should he let the matter drop? What was it about that pendant that bothered him so? Gamaliel waited. He did not believe the king kne
w what lay beneath the false ceramic on the bauble. If he did, there might have been no murder in the bath two nights ago.

  He glanced at the wall, the perfidious wall, and toyed with the idea that Barak, with his scruples about the royals’ level of piety, might be persuaded to assemble a corps of spies from one or more of his wife’s acquaintances. He needed to know what these people knew and were not telling him. When he was done with this king he would make a proposition to Barak. He desperately needed to overcome the disadvantage the wall provided those who wished the investigation to sink into the quicksand of lies they’d spread in his path.

  Chapter XI

  In the previous hour, Agon had hastily removed the paste from the underlying gold. Gamaliel had a quick glance at the inscriptions on its gold rim. It was only a hurried look as he had to rush back to the palace to keep this appointment with the king. But given what little he did manage to decipher, he surmised that if the king knew, odds were the girl would have been elevated into the family circle, not left to defend herself from a deadly, and brutal, attack.

  A murder, any murder, he guessed, would not rest easily on the king’s conscience. There were rumors that he regretted the beheading of the Baptizer. So, in this latest, could the king have been implicated in some way? Gamaliel could think of reasons why he might have condoned or turned a blind eye to it. If it involved a guest of high station, for example, or someone in the royal family, he might take the position that a servant girl’s death did not warrant exposing “one of his own” to scandal. Gamaliel studied his man and waited. Too often powerful men assume as an inherent right of their birth, that they may take advantage of the low born and servants in particular.