The Eighth Veil

by Frederick Ramsay

“No, but I am persuaded he is who he claims to be, if that is what you are after.”

  “Thank you. That is a great help.”

  “Is it? Well, well. How so?”

  “You have shown me another corridor that seems to lead nowhere and one, therefore, I do not need walk down and so I can direct my search elsewhere.”

  “I am not sure I follow you, but no matter. Do you know who killed the girl?”

  “I hope so. It is not easy. But in any event, I cannot say at the moment. There are a few loose ends to tie together and then all will be revealed. I must catch him first.”

  “You think you can?’

  “Again, I hope. Failing that, I will identify him and let the Prefect’s men bring him in.”

  “I will leave you to it then. A word of caution, Rabban.”

  “Yes?”

  “The walls have ears.” He cocked his head back in the direction of the interview room. “Be careful what you say, if you do not want the queen and her spies to hear it.”

  “Thank you, Majesty. I will bear that in mind.”

  The king squinted at Gamaliel for a moment and then a trace of a smile crossed his lips. “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

  It was Gamaliel’s turn to smile. “Oh, one last question, Majesty, if I may.”

  “As long as you refrain from taking me to task for my poor observance, certainly.”

  “The Prefect heard rumors that one of your brother’s children might be in the city and in pursuit of questionable ends.”

  “Who would that be?”

  “The son of Alexander by Glaphyra, Archelaus.”

  “That is not possible.”

  “With respect, Majesty, why not possible?”

  “Because he is dead these last seven months.”

  “Ah, then it couldn’t have been him.”

  “Pardon?”

  “It takes a turn, Majesty, thank you. Dead seven months, of course.”

  Chapter XXXVI

  Gamaliel indicated that Chuzas should follow him and return to the room.

  “What do you make of that, Steward?”

  “Of what?”

  “Pilate seemed certain this Archelaus had come to Jerusalem for some possibly nefarious purpose and the king declares him dead for over a half year. How can the vaunted Roman information gathering network have been so wrong?”

  “There are many things our overlords do not know, sir, and there is the time-honored practice in this country for dispensing wrong information to them. I am sure others must do it as well.”

  “Yes. That may be so. Now, to the business at hand.”

  When they arrived at the room, they paced the length and breadth of it. He spoke to Chuzas in a low voice, opening doors, motioning toward the steps that led to the cellars, the ceiling and the opposite wall ostensibly used by the royals. Then he waved the steward back out into the corridor. There, still speaking to him in a low voice he spent the next half hour explaining to him what he wanted him to do, how and what to say to the captain of the guard, and when to say it. He spent half again that much time reassuring him that no risk would accrue to him, and finally running through it all once more so there could be no slip-up. When he felt confident Chuzas knew his assignments and when he was to execute them, he sent him off to perform his routine duties.

  “I will want you again before I leave, Steward,” he said in parting and proceeded to the garden where Menahem at last waited for him.

  The old man stood at the arrival of the Rabban. Gamaliel wondered how long it had taken him to adapt to the expectation of others that he rise in the presence of those deemed superior in rank or position. It couldn’t have been easy for one brought up being deferred to by princes and generals and not the other way round. Humbling oneself, Gamaliel had read, strengthened a man’s character. If that were true, this man’s character must have the strength of Sampson by now. Or had some “Delilah” got to his spirit and shorn him of it by now. He looked into the old man’s eyes, noted the flinty stare he returned, and guessed she hadn’t.

  “Ha Shem,” he said and gestured for Menahem to be seated. “Your queen does not like you very much, it seems, Menahem.”

  “So it has been reported. It is a thing we share, Rabban. She is not easy in your presence as well.”

  “Not easy does not do her feeling toward me justice—hostile more like. It comes with the title, I think. Many people are leery of me and with cause, I am told, for what I represent.”

  “And that would be?”

  “The Law can be an uncomfortable companion, Prince, and its interpreter even more so. Never mind, you and I have lived long enough to know that popularity is fleeting and no guarantee of either happiness or security. Look here, I have brought you your knife. You may need it—for ceremonial purposes only I hope. Still, this is the palace of a Herod and—”

  “You are being cynical.”

  “Realistic, I think. At any rate, I now know that it was not used in the murder by you or anyone else.”

  “You are sure of that?” The old man took the knife from him and turned it over in his hand. “Are you positive you would not like to keep it?”

  “I? Do you wish to gift me with this beautiful piece of the knife maker’s art? Or are you offering it to me to keep until such time as you are certain you are vindicated?”

  “I am an old man. How much longer I will be around to wear it is highly problematical. You look like a man who would appreciate it. It is very old, you know.”

  “I guessed as much, old and of foreign design. You brought it with you, I assume.”

  “Brought it with me? Yes I did.” Menahem narrowed his eyes as if he were trying to see into Gamaliel’s mind.

  “No, you keep it. I have no use for a dagger of that quality and origin. Now, there is a question or two I must ask you.”

  The old man laid the knife down on the bench between the two of them and waited.

  “Why is it that you, and apparently you alone, knew the dead girl’s real name?”

  “Did I?”

  It was Gamaliel’s turn to attempt a bit of mind reading. Was this man being obtuse, evasive, dishonest, or ingenuous? He obviously knew things and kept secrets. Gamaliel guessed not all the secrets were of any real use to him or anyone else for that matter. Not anymore. It had simply become second nature to him, given his origin and history.

  “Yes, you did. Everyone in the palace, including the queen in whose service the girl had been placed, knew her only as Cappo. You told me her name was Alexandra. I ask you again, how did you come to know it?”

  “Suppose I were to say, I asked and she answered.”

  “I would reply that you have a facile mind for an old man but offer me a poor answer. Not entirely truthful, but close, and certainly one that might fool another. But I do not accept it. There is no reason for you to ask a servant her name, particularly when she already had one.” Gamaliel paused and inhaled the scent of citrus. He didn’t see any tree and it was late in the season, but the aroma wafted across the garden from time to time as the breeze rose and fell. He studied the old man’s eyes again. “Why. I asked myself, would you? And the answer came to me, you wouldn’t. You knew her name because…may I venture a guess?”

  “Of course, if you understand I may not affirm or deny it.”

  “Yes of course, but in the end you will.” Menahem smiled and said nothing. “The girl arrived at the palace of Philip with her father. He wished her to be hidden away. He feared for her safety at the very least, her life more likely. And with cause as it turns out, as she is now dead. Philip tucked her away in his queen’s entourage with instructions to keep her safe and, incidentally, pure. The queen received no other information because, I believe, her husband had by then learned he could not trust her.”

  “With reason, I think you would agree.”

  “Exactly. When it seemed likely the queen would flee his palace and bed for that of his half brother, Antipas, he contacted you and asked you
r help in protecting the girl. Am I right so far?”

  “Near enough.”

  “You are no fool nor do you feel any deep sense of obligation to this gaggle of Herodian descendents with which you are saddled, but you had some respect for Antipas and for Philip. I don’t know why for Philip, but as you were raised in Antipas’ house you must have something of a bond there.”

  Menahem only smiled.

  “You knew, and Philip recognized that this king, your friend and foster brother, is a weak man and unable to resist the blandishments of his new queen. So he, that is Philip, determined it would not be a prudent course to share anything about the girl with him.”

  “Yes, that is so. But that still does not explain how I know her name.”

  “Not yet. As I said, you are not slow and I dare say you would not accept Philip’s request without some explanation. He told you, I think, that the girl was the daughter of a very important person and it would be unwise for you to know who. Am I close?”

  “Not quite there, but again, close.”

  “But he had to tell you her name because of the letters. I think later, because of that, you may have worked out who she was. Gossip races around a palace like rats in a granary and eventually it would get around to her father, her uncles, and the pot of intrigue they had cooked up. So, you have at least a thought of who she is and why she was here.”

  “I do. But it is not one I will share with you.”

  “There is no need to, Menahem. I already know who she is, where she came from, why she landed here, and that you were the conduit for letters to her, and from her, to her correspondent, that is to say her father in the north, for all but the last one.”

  “So there you are, Rabban, in possession of all there is to know. Why query me?”

  “Not all. One small question about the letters remains. When one arrived, how did she know to come to you?”

  “She didn’t come to me, as you say. If she were in the chambers I would tell her. Usually I sent for her.”

  “Sent? Who did you send?”

  “Oh, someone who would not question the errand, a guard or another servant.”

  “So that is it. And now I have all that I need to finish this business, I think.”

  “If you know all, do you also know who killed her?”

  “I do.”

  “Who?”

  “Ah, as to that…”

  Chapter XXXVII

  Gamaliel dropped his gaze and said nothing. Time passed, how long he could not say. If the old man expected an answer he did not show it but waited patiently for the Rabban to continue.

  “I am curious, Menahem…That’s not your real name is it? It’s one that you took after you arrived here.” Menahem’s response was a faint smile. “As I was saying, I am curious. How exactly did you come to this place? Did you say you were traveling and the late king found you? What?”

  “I intended to travel to the east, far to the east, in fact to India. I left the Kingdom of Aksum, south of Kush, and crossed by sea to Elath.”

  “From Africa, then.”

  “Yes. There I engaged some Idumean guides to take me through Arabia. They know the oases and the routes through the deserts and keep them secret. For a price, they would keep my journey a secret as well. We had to stop in Petra to re-provision and buy camels before going on our way. It was while I lingered in the City of Stone that Herod found me.”

  “Found you?”

  “I had treasure in my baggage. My companions betrayed me. They gave me up in return for a part of it. The king took the rest.”

  “Why did he want to take you?”

  “All this happened a long time ago, Rabban. The reasons are no longer important or relevant. It is enough to know that at that time, my life could be exchanged for a king’s ransom. This Herod did not need the money but he did have a use for me—a political use, you could say.”

  “You were how old then?”

  “No more than ten and seven.”

  “I see. That would put this trip you were making after the battle of Actium.”

  “After that by a bit. As I said, it happened a long time ago. What was current then has faded into the mists of time. No one cares anymore about Antony or Octavian or…. I did see the great Augustus once, briefly.”

  “And your mother?”

  Menahem started back. First fear, then resignation crossed his face. Gamaliel raised his hand and shook his head and smiled.

  “You do know now that I know who you are? I believe I know the rest as well. I can guess who the girl was, and the reason for her end, and your role in all this.”

  “Is any of that useful knowledge do you think? At the remove of a half century, knowing who I am can be of no use to you whatsoever. And now that the girl is dead, knowledge about her is equally useless. Rabban, take some advice and let it go. Turn me over to the Prefect and let us be done. I have nothing left to hold me here.”

  “I would like to but I cannot. I am not made that way.”

  “More’s the pity. Then you must go catch your murderer. Turn him over to this new puppet that Rome has yoked us with and be done with it.” Menahem paused and stared off into space for a moment. “Out of curiosity, just how did you work out who I am?”

  Gamaliel removed the coin he’d carried in his belt for days and placed it on the bench between them next to the knife. “I found this coin along with some others in the bath. I could not figure out what relationship they bore on the murder. I subsequently decided they had none at all, but I worried about them for days anyway. Then, when I first interviewed you, you turned your head momentarily, enough for me to catch your profile. I knew I had seen it before, but I also knew I had never met you, indeed had only seen you at a distance. It took me several days, past Shabbat, in fact, before I remembered. They say you had a striking resemblance to your father. Then I had it, because, if the coin can be trusted, you still do. But even so, I hesitated to believe it. You were supposed to be far away or long dead.”

  “Believe me, Gamaliel, there are days when I wished the latter were the case. So, you know, or think you do. Please grant me a great favor and allow me to stay dead and buried.”

  “Your secret is safe with me, if you wish it to be.”

  “I do not care one way or the other. I am rapidly approaching my promised three score and ten. I cannot last much longer. I have no value to anyone anymore. Perhaps to be displayed as another of the rarities from Africa. Have you ever seen an elephant, Rabban?”

  “No, I confess I have not.”

  “Well, if you ever do, you will find it to be a far more fascinating study than this old man.”

  “You sell yourself short. Until recently you were important to someone.”

  “The king? I think not. Not anymore. Oh, you mean the girl?”

  “Yes, the girl. You were the only person she knew and could trust and at the end her only hope. You kept her in touch with her father until he died. Or was he murdered too?”

  “The latter, I think. The offspring of Herod are a bloodthirsty, incestuous lot. And coming from me and my past, that is saying something, don’t you agree?”

  “By incest you mean what, exactly?”

  “Aside from this new queen marrying her brother-in-law, is he not also her uncle, as was her first husband.”

  “It is not unlawful for a niece to marry her uncle. So the notion of incest is moot.”

  “Tell me, Rabban, this is your field if I’m not mistaken, how is it lawful for a man to marry his niece, but a woman may not marry her nephew? I have followed this religion of yours now for fifty years and I cannot make any sense of it.”

  “I have neither the time nor inclination to dispute with you, Menahem. It is enough to know that hundreds of years have been spent studying the Torah in an attempt to discern the mind of the Lord and the collective wisdom of the brightest minds over those years have so spoken.”

  “In Egypt, before Octavian arrived, pharaohs married their siblings. Men wer
e usually pharaoh, but women could be and either way the sister or brother ruled with pharaoh and as spouse.”

  “You would know, of course.”

  Again Menahem merely shrugged and waved a dismissive hand. “The thought, you see, was to keep the blood line pure by wedding sisters to brothers, cousins at least. You would say that is incest, no doubt, but I see uncles and nieces wed in this land and suggest you draw a very fine line in the matter.”

  “And you, Menahem, were you ever married? Are there offspring and grandchildren living in the land of Herod?”

  “None that I care to mention. Married? Herod had decided notions about that possibility. I never lacked for company, if that is what you are searching for, but marriage and heirs? No.”

  “Enough. The antics of kings and queens, their offspring, and the thin edge of Talmud is not a thing we need to waste time any more on. It is what it is.”

  “Yes, and that, my friend, is the definition of life in these dying cultures. And so we must endure them even as we watch them fall away like castles made from sand.”

  “Dying? How?”

  “It will not collapse right away, Rabban, but the eagle that was once Rome is rapidly devolving into a guinea fowl. The majesty of your Moses has slipped into a quagmire of petty rules, and laws. Disputes between rival interpreters of it will slowly suck you down. Mark my words, Rabban. And remember they come from one who witnessed the mightiest empire in the world founder, fall, and disappear into the Nile. Gaze long and hard on your golden Temple for your generation will be the last to marvel at its glory.”

  “That borders on heresy, old man!”

  “You wish it so, I am sure, but if you have correctly divined who I am, then you know I come from a prophetic race. What I say is true. Put your house in order. Collect your books and scrolls and put them in a safe place against an upheaval of everything you hold dear.”

  Gamaliel sat quite still, visibly shaken by the old man’s words. He heard echoes of the other prophet, the one beheaded due to Antipas’ weakness, and he feared he’d been given a glimpse into the future.

  “You are mistaken, Menahem. Take your knife and resume your place in the king’s household. I will detain you no longer. I will have the girl’s killer before Shabbat and I will return to my studies in the sure and certain knowledge that what we determine here in this city at this time will last a thousand years.”