After a long moment, the queen turned to leave the room. “Steward you will send a courier to Pilate with this message. Say, ‘The Queen sends her greetings to his Excellency, the Prefect, and wishes to inform him of the fact that the murder weapon has been found, its owner identified, and yet the Rabban of the Sanhedrin has scruples.’ Say also, ‘The Queen has every confidence in the Prefect’s judgment but wonders why this murder investigation has not been brought to an end and the palace allowed to return to normal.’”
“Shall I also name Menahem?”
“Well, why not?” The queen stalked from the room leaving a relieved Chuzas behind.
***
Gamaliel took the cup Loukas offered and sighed. He could soon get used to this life. A cup of wine in the back court with a friend however distant he might be from the Faith.
“Are you now sufficiently unburdened to discuss your crime, Rabban? If so, I have a small piece of news for you.”
“News? Good news, I hope, I could use some good news.”
“Draco, on reflection, tells me the intruder, who may or may not have come here as a result of the murder, wore boots.”
“Boots? Like a soldier? Those kinds of boots? Tiberius’ presumed successor, Germanicus’ son Caligula, wore boots as a child. ‘Little Boots’ the soldiers called him. I gather the name stuck. So, what sort of boots?”
“Draco did not specify, but if they were evident in the failing light and to weak eyes, they must have been more than the short sort worn by camel drovers and sea captains.”
“Just so, but of what significance is this?”
“Well. I did not promise significance, only a potential clue, and one might ask, who wears boots in Jerusalem?”
“The hills currently teem with pilgrims from all over the world. Anyone of them could have slipped over your wall.”
“But would they not have taken what they could. Nothing, you recall, is missing.”
“That’s true and leads us nowhere but, I am glad for any information even if, in the end it isn’t particularly helpful. Thank Draco for me.” Gamaliel sipped his wine. “One day, Physician, I would like to have at my disposal a supply of ice from the mountain tops. They say that Caesar has it brought to him by runners so that he can cool his bath or his wine. I would like to taste wine in the summer that has been chilled.”
“When I lived across the Middle Sea near the mountains where the weather brings ice and snow in the winter months, I had that experience. I found it delightful but do not think it worth the cost to make it happen here. Of course if you are Caesar, the cost is of no concern. In winter you can always put your casks outside. That would chill the wine.”
“But I do not want it chilled in the winter. I want it chilled in the summer when it is hot.”
“Of course. Alas, life is not fair, Rabban.”
“Indeed. Speaking of evidence, do you know the circumstances surrounding the death of the Baptizer?”
“I think you have made a giant leap in your rhetoric, Rabban. What has chilling wine to do with the beheading of one of your prophets, and what has that to do with evidence in this case?”
“There is a continuing debate over John’s place in the ranks of the prophets. I am one that does not subscribe to the notion he qualifies to join the company of Isaiah, but the people in the streets do so we let it stand. The connection, Loukas is this—Princess Salome caught the attention of the king. I would say he lusted after her but the queen stood in the way of anything ever coming of such incestuous thoughts. Nevertheless, he bade her dance for him. She refused at first, but he promised her anything if she would do it. Legend has it she danced with seven veils which she shed one at a time.”
“Seven? One of your peoples’ magic numbers.”
“Not just my people and not magic. An important number, yes, but please, no magic, my friend. What do you mean my people?”
“You are captive to certain numbers, Rabban. Everybody knows that. Seven, twelve, forty—forty days, forty years, seven years of plenty, seven years of famine, seven demons—not six, not eight, seven…Jews are fascinated with these numbers and increments dependent on them. You really should study Euclid, Rabban, you would find him fascinating.”
“Do not get me started on numerology or mathematics either just now. I have enough pagan interference as it is. So, the princess is alleged to have had seven veils and seven only. That is to say when the seventh hit the floor she was, as you might say, gymnós. The king was enchanted with her performance—”
“And her appearance no doubt. I have seen the princess.”
“Yes, well he breached numerous laws regarding gazing on the nakedness of another by the time she’d finished. At any rate, and at her mother’s urging, the princess requested the head of the Baptizer on a silver tray as her reward.”
“And of course the king delivered it.”
“Not right away. Befuddled as he was, he offered her alternatives. To be fair, he never thought such a request would be made and as he was one who accepted the Baptizer as a prophet, he feared killing him could bring disaster to both him and his court. But a king’s word is his bond—sometimes—and in the end he complied.”
“Fascinating. All this has to do with your case exactly how?”
“The veils, Physician. The solution to my case, as you call it, dances before me like the princess. I am hampered from seeing her, that is to say to see my solution, by the veils. They obscure and each time one has dropped to the floor, there is another beneath it.”
“The imagery is alluring, I must say. So how close to sighting flesh are you?”
“Please, that is not the direction I intended to take, but I must admit you are right. She is very alluring in a ‘soon to go to fat way.’ You see my problem. I am not a logician like the Greeks you so admire. I am a plodder. I read the Law, I interpret and dispute it. We look at it this way and then that. Can it mean this or something else? What does the Lord want of us, you see? There is never a need for me to dissect a problem like this one. The vision I seek eludes me in the madness of the dance and swirls of silk.”
“How very poetic. You may be a plodder but you have promise. Alas, I can’t help you any more than I have. If you were to place before me all that you deduced thus far, I might be able to offer an insight or two.”
“Yes, that is so. Let me think on that. Now I must return to the palace and grab at one or two of those veils…don’t even say it! I will return soon.”
Chapter XXII
Gamaliel arrived at the palace gates just as a messenger dashed by. “Pardon, sir,” the youth muttered and scurried down the street in the direction of the Antonia Fortress. Barak emerged from the same gate and waved frantically at Gamaliel.
“Sir, there is trouble, I fear.”
“What sort of trouble? I have only been away a few hours. What could have happened in such a short time?”
“We have spoken of it before—you know how our rulers assume servants are both deaf and blind—
“Yes, I remember.”
“One of the queen’s maids passed along the news that she has sent a message to Pilate and told him you have identified the killer but refuse to act.”
“But I don’t have the killer. I only have a suspect. There is a vast difference. Moreover, I have serious doubts about this suspect and I need a firmer case before I would make any move against him. Does Chuzas know about this message?”
“He drafted it.”
“Ah, now that is interesting. He didn’t try to dissuade the queen from sending it?”
“No. If the person who overheard the exchange remembers correctly, she said he only urged her not to have Menahem arrested on the spot by the king’s own guards. She appeared ready to call them out and have the old man led to the Prefect in chains.”
“There are days when I really regret I am forbidden to swear an oath. This is one of those days. Very well, we will deal with the queen’s foolishness when we must. I had hoped to have a word wit
h Menahem this afternoon, but I will meet with the steward first. Shabbat will be soon upon us. If we do not finish this up in two days, this investigation will have to be put over until Yom Rishon. Find the steward and tell him I require his presence immediately. I will be in the room assigned to us.”
Barak hurried off in search of Chuzas. Gamaliel retired to the room which had become as familiar to him by now as one in his own home. He wondered if any ears and eyes lurked behind that punctuated wall. Did he care? One advantage in knowing you are being watched and overheard was you can easily transmit misinformation likely be viewed as credible than you can if you tried the same thing face to face. The disadvantage: you had to be very careful how you dispensed the truth. He was turning these thoughts over in his mind while he waited for the steward.
A woman entered and glanced nervously around and then approached him. “Rabban,” she said with a voice so soft he almost did not hear her.
“I am the Rabban. What is it you want, woman?”
“Forgive me for coming. I have heard you believe Menahem is the man who has killed the girl they call Cappo.”
“That is true, as far as it goes. He is the most likely at the moment. There is the matter of his knife, you see. You have something to tell me about Menahem?”
“He is not your killer, sir. I know him and I know he could not have done this awful thing.”
“I see. You know this how? Who has spoken to you of this matter? It is not a thing to be noised about in the women’s quarters.”
“I am not from the women’s quarters, Excellency. I should explain. It is my husband who has told me these things.”
“Your husband? Who may that be?”
“I am Joanna, the wife of Chuzas.”
“Ah! And you know we do not have the right man how?”
“I know Menahem because he it was who led me to the rabbi.”
“The rabbi? What rabbi would that be? Woman, the streets of this city teem with rabbis, would be rabbis, discredited rabbis, and pagans who pass themselves off as rabbis.”
“I speak of the man Yeshua ben Yosef.”
“Ah, I see, that rabbi. Yes your husband mentioned him. And Menahem is a follower, too?”
“Yes.”
“And he led you to him?”
“We…I had a great need and Menahem, he found the rabbi and the rabbi healed me, so yes, I suppose you could say he led me to him.”
“And what is it about this carpenter-rabbi that makes him so appealing to you? Beyond the healing, of course. It was a serious illness?”
“Yes…you could say so. I was…well it is done now, thank the Lord.”
“And you admire him for what he has done for you. That is only natural. But this man has no followers of note that I am aware of, no people of substance deem him any more than a rabble rouser like his cousin, and he teaches without authority. What is it that attracts the wife of the king’s steward to join his odd flock of men and women?”
“When he speaks about the Lord, it is different. It is as though he knows him personally. He speaks of mercy—”
“And do you believe it is the place of women to think much on those topics.”
“I know it is written, It would be better to see the Torah burned, than to hear its words upon the lips of a woman, but I don’t understand why that must be so.”
“Where is that written, woman?”
“I do not know, sir. I am but a woman and not permitted to learn scripture. But it is often repeated to me by my husband when we, or rather when I, venture to speak about my love of the Lord.”
“But you wish to know more of our Creator, is that it?”
“Yes.”
“And this rabbi of yours encourages you to learn?”
“He does.”
“Does he teach the Law, Torah, Moses?”
A vertical line appeared on Joanna’s forehead. “Sometimes, yes, but mostly he quotes from the Isaiah scroll.”
“Ah, so it is like that. Yes, I see.” Gamaliel did not agree with some of the teachings of his own mentor Hillel particularly those concerning women, and he had his doubts about this untutored rabbi from the north with his emphasis on Isaiah and the Coming Age. He’d neither heard nor seen the man and cared nothing about him. But as he gazed at the earnest face before him, he understood that a willing heart is honored by the Lord irrespective of the breast in which it beat.
“I do not begrudge you the opportunity, child, but as you know, women are assumed to have binah, intuition of the spirit. Therefore you are exempt from some of the Commandments. That is why you may not be counted in a minyan and why, among other things, when you read Torah, it does not count as a reading in the community.”
“Yes I understand. It is a thing some women find burdensome, but not I.”
“No? Good. Then, do you know why it is the ordinary people and not the scholars, the leaders in the city, who seek your rabbi out? Why are so many from the countryside where regard for the Law is otherwise so lax?”
“You mean the Galilee. I can only guess, sir. He speaks to them in ways they understand. He talks of sowing and reaping, of lost sheep, unfruitful vines, and of catching fish. He knows about landowners and what it must be like for a man to stand fearful yet forced to wait in the market square, hoping for the chance to earn the day’s wages he needs to buy bread to feed his family that evening. The people of the city—David’s city—are many generations from tending flocks or pruning branches from vines. In the city we buy and sell the fruits of other men’s labor.”
“Just so, but we meet at the Temple, we read the same Torah.”
“We do, but with respect, Rabban, it is not the same in practice. When we go to offer a grain sacrifice, we buy a measure of wheat in the market along the way and take it to the Priest to place on the Altar. But a farmer takes his measure of wheat from stores he has grown himself and brings it to sacrifice. If he has had a bad harvest, his sacrifice is greater than ours, you see? In the same way that we buy and sell the fruits of another’s labor, so also do we sacrifice their fruits, not ours. The farmer, the shepherd, the vintner, all sacrifice from their substance. Our sacrifice is perfunctory, theirs is real.”
Gamaliel’s eyebrows which had begun to climb his forehead, now dropped down to near normal.
“I see. As I said, binah. And now you have a problem, woman. Your husband does not approve of your love of this rabbi. You walk on the thin edge of disobedience when he wishes you to cease and you do not obey him.”
“I know that. It is a great worry for me but that is not why I came to you. It is something more…I know my husband blames Menahem for the problem. You see, that is why he did what he did. He is angry at the king’s companion.”
“What did he do?”
“It is only a suspicion. You found a knife in the bath, it is said.”
“I did.”
“It was Menahem’s?”
“It was.”
“Oh dear. I am not certain. It was something he said and…” She sighed and looked away, her eyes troubled. There was something she did not wish to tell him and he suspected it was important. But for her to do so she would have to betray her husband. He could not ask her to do that. Could she know that Chuzas’ had drafted the damning letter to Pilate? That must be it.
“So you believe because he held Menahem responsible for your straying from him in this business of the rabbi he hoped to see Menahem discredited?”
“I fear it, yes. But I don’t know for sure and I don’t want to…I just wanted to say…”
“Enough. I will keep what you have said in mind. In the meantime you have a problem to solve with respect to your rabbi. Your course is to do one of two things. You must yield to your husband,” Joanna’s face fell, “or, you must persuade him to join you in following this man.”
“Which?”
“I cannot say, but am of the opinion he will reap a greater benefit if you bring him to your rabbi than if you yield to his position. But I cannot tell y
ou how to proceed or predict which will be the end of it. Now you must be off before your husband finds you here and thinks wrongly of the reason why.”
Chuzas would arrive soon and he did not want him to know his wife had provided him with information. It led no closer to the killer but it might help explain away one inconsistency that continued to gnaw at him.
Chapter XXIII
As it happened, it wasn’t the steward who entered next, but a grim captain of the palace guard who marched into the room with two equally stone-faced men. Surprised, Gamaliel started to rise from his chair. He had planned to have a word with the captain, but hadn’t asked to see him just then. He assumed the arrival signaled something else, some new turn in events.
“Captain, have you come to tell me you have found Graecus?”
“No sir, sorry. I am sent to collect you and hand you over to a small unit of Roman soldiers who are waiting at the palace gate. The Prefect, it seems requires your immediate presence. And to be sure you comply, he has sent legionnaires. They will escort you to the Antonia Fortress.”
“Will they now? My, my, that was quick. The queen’s message must have touched a nerve or the Prefect is in her debt. Or…what else must be on his mind that he would yield to a queen for whom he has little or no respect?” The captain shrugged and looked embarrassed. What did he think of Gamaliel’s frequent disregard for the exalted position of the royal family? What did any of them think? “Very well, Captain, lead on.”
The captain of the guard led Gamaliel to the palace’s outer gate where several bored legionnaires, resplendent in dress leather armor, slouched against the palace wall, their short swords drawn. Gamaliel greeted them and gestured toward the Antonia Fortress.
“Lead on, my good men,” he said and fell into step between them. The group made its way through the crowd of sweaty pedestrians, pilgrims, not to mention the cut-purses who make a point of attending the High Holy days and risk certain death or dismemberment in search of easy money. It took some shoving on the part of the soldiers to clear their way through the crowd. Gamaliel heard low voices muttering, “It’s the Rabban, he has been taken prisoner. What has happened?” He guessed by nightfall the rumor would have spread throughout the city that he’d been arrested, tried, and was even then on his way to Golgotha to hang on a cross outside the city’s walls. He waved to the crowd hoping they would understand that he was not in trouble, only responding to a summons. In truth he didn’t know if that were true or even if he would return from the interview. Pontius Pilate, though he’d been on station just a little over a year, had already acquired a reputation for harshness and insensitivity in his treatment of the people over whom he ruled. Gamaliel could only guess at what the Prefect might have in store for him. But it did not take a scholar to assume it was nothing good.
The Eighth Veil Page 12