I, Claudia

by Charity Bishop

  “Make sure Avram doesn’t over-exert himself. I worry about him.”

  She smiles. “He’s excited. His father used to tell him stories of Caesarea and the great city of Jerusalem.”

  “Quintus is our commander of the garrison in Jerusalem.” I watch her as she laces up my sandal, her face flushing. “You’ll see him soon.”

  “Claudia….” Her eyes dart to mine.

  I laugh. “It’s all right to look forward to seeing him again.”

  “No, it isn’t! I’m a Jewess and he’s…”

  “A Roman, and centurion, but what does it matter?”

  The door opens and Pilate sticks his head inside. “It’s time.”

  I join him on deck and shade my eyes from the sun. A market thrives on the docks and the streets fill with eager faces, many of them lining the streets. Pilate turns to Demetrius and asks, “Have you heard anything?”

  “My spies reported to me at dawn. There is no hint of trouble with the locals, Prefect. They want to find out what kind of a governor you are, before deciding whether or not to challenge you.”

  Ladders lower over the side of the ship into the smaller craft below. Pilate enters first. Demetrius and two other guards accompany us to shore. Shining black horses carry us into the city. The governor’s house is not far from the coast and I remove my head covering as we enter.

  “We passed a ruin on our way in,” I say, turning to Demetrius. “What is it?”

  He escorts us past great columns, the sea shining in the distance. “Tiberius’ temple; Governor Gratus left it unfinished. He ran out of funds.”

  Pilate disappears into his office and I survey the line of faces lining the hall. “Which one of you is in charge?”

  “I am, Mistress.” He steps forward.

  “Take me to the kitchens. I want to see them.”

  Our home is spacious and the kitchens meet with my approval. Avram arrives and I gather the staff in the main hall. “I’m pleased with what I see, but in a Roman household there is always room for improvement. This is Avram. He knows how I run my house. Defer to him in all things. Is this understood?”

  “Yes, Mistress,” they answer.

  I clap my hands and they hurry to unload furniture from our carts. Our room is soon in order and Pilate joins me there at nightfall. I offer him a cup of wine. “Do you find all as it should be?”

  Moving out onto the verandah, he stares across the sea. “Gratus did little to improve conditions here during his governorship. It will take weeks to sort out the mess but it isn’t as bad as I expected.”

  “That’s fortunate.” I lean against the column and gaze out over the city.

  He sips his wine and says, “We’ll have a visit from King Herod soon.”

  “I’m surprised Tiberius lets him keep such a title. Isn’t the emperor our god?”

  Pilate smiles as I join him, wrapping his arms around me. “Herod is a Galilean. Tiberius grants him the title to maintain peace so the Jews feel like they are not entirely under Roman occupation. But from what my men tell me, he’s not well liked, too Roman in his beliefs and practices.”

  “Have you met him before?”

  Behind us, servants finish setting out our meal and slip away. Pilate leads me indoors. “I did, in Rome, and I’m not eager to renew our acquaintance.”

  “What’s he like?”

  His eyes twinkle at me. “He’s fat and insulting.”

  “Not too much like a Roman then!” I grin and pop a grape in my mouth.

  Swirling his wine, Pilate says, “You still have a wicked tongue. Tomorrow, I want you to put it to good use. The high priests of the Roman temple demand an audience and I don’t want to see them.”

  “I’m just as much of a heathen as you are now, remember?”

  He pulls meat apart with his fingers. “But you can fake it.”

  “Very well, I’ll do it for your sake.”

  Entering the temple means nothing to me where once it would have comforted me. I stare at the images of the gods and shake my head. The priests bless and honor me with a sacrifice, read the entrails of a goat, and predict good omens for our time in Judea. I am a curiosity to them, a Roman woman in Judea. Others share their interest. Faces watch from doorways and children approach me in the marketplace, where I sort through fish and figs to give me flowers and fruit.

  Demetrius says, “They like you.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  From his expression, I know it is. I return my gaze to the merchant’s table and sort through fabric, searching for a compromise between hot, heavy homespun and light, sheer tunics. Libi makes my purchases and carries them home. She follows me inside and the tribune standing there turns to us with a smile.

  “Quintus, you’re here at last!” I embrace him. “You haven’t changed!”

  He laughs and cups my chin in his hand. “You have!”

  Libi stands behind us, her arms full of packages. His eyes soften at the sight of her. “Libi, how does it feel to be in Judea? Your father must be pleased.”

  “He’s delighted and will be even more so to see you again. Does he know you’re here?” She flushes slightly.

  My brother shakes his head. “I’ve just arrived.”

  “I’ll tell him.” Glancing between us, she retreats. Her shadow passes over a figure standing beside the column. His appearance startles me and Quintus places a hand on my arm.

  “This is Germanius, my servant. He’s safe enough.”

  Gentle eyes stare out from a youthful but scarred face. He stays behind as Quintus follows me into the main room. I pour a cup of wine and consider the hulking figure in the hall. “He looks like a Gladiator.”

  “He’s a Syrian and used to fight in the games in Rome but they had a hard time handling him. He cannot speak. I bought him at a slave market. Two years ago, he saved my life in a riot. I offered him freedom but he refuses to leave.”

  My heart softens toward the giant. “You changed his life.”

  “I guess I did.”

  Footsteps echo on marble tiles and Avram enters the room. “Quintus, it’s good to see you, my friend!”

  Quintus clasps his arm in friendship. “And you as well! I understand you were at my father’s side to the last. Thank you for that.”

  “It was my honor to serve him and now to serve your sister’s household.” He indicates the former gladiator. “May I show your servant comfort?”

  Nodding, Quintus says, “Yes. Germanius, go with Avram to the kitchen.”

  They pass down the hall, one an old man with a limp and the other a gentle giant. I sprawl out across a chaise and smile at my brother. “Is it permissible for a tribune to stay at the home of his procurator, or must you go to a stinking barracks somewhere?”

  “I’m afraid the latter.” Quintus drinks his wine and his expression softens as he looks at me. “You’ve done well, Claudia. To go from the youngest daughter of a disgraced wine merchant to a governor’s wife is no small feat.”

  Wind stirs the draperies and carries the scent of the sea. “Better a wife than a seer,” I answer him.

  Pilate descends the steps. “I thought I heard your voice.”

  “Governor,” answers Quintus, rising to greet him.

  Laying a hand on his shoulder, Pilate says, “Tell me of Judea.”

  “Since Gratus’ departure, it’s quiet. Most are curious about you, but some remember you from when you commanded the garrison in Jerusalem.”

  Our servants enter with supper and set it out on the low table. Libi pours the wine. Pilate and Quintus move closer to the verandah to speak in peace. I sit and watch them, fingering my cup.

  “Then they know what to expect from me.”

  Quintus half smiles and says, “You should expect some resistance from the new high priest in Jerusalem, Caiaphas. He is more of a politician than his predecessor but also unpredictable. He’ll challenge you to see how much control you intend to influence over the temple.”

  “How much control
did Gratus have?”

  Looking out over the sea, Quintus shrugs. “He didn’t exert much, but things change in Judea. There are now two religious fractions… the Pharisees are the more rigid and the Sadducees tend toward politicizing.”

  “I see. Maybe we should test them first.” Pilate approaches the rail and looks across the courtyard, fluttering with the Roman insignias. “Jerusalem seems to be the root of all rebellions in this province. Let us remind them it is Roman. Take an extra legion with you when you return with the garrison, and carry the standards of Tiberius into the city.”

  A silver platter clatters to the floor and Libi picks it up, her face red.

  “Neither group will like it.”

  Pilate turns inside. “But it will make an impression on them.”

  The last of the food is set out and Avram sends most of the servants from the room. I motion for him and he reaches my side. “Why won’t they like it?”

  His dark eyes are unreadable. “Graven images aren’t permitted in Jerusalem. We have one god, and Tiberius is not He.”

  Chills run down my spine.

  “Is that all, Mistress?”

  Pilate sits down beside me and I nod. Avram moves slowly out the door. The sound his staff makes as it hits the marble floor is the loneliest in the world.

  Chapter Ten

  My first glimpse of the caravan is a line of rising dust on the horizon. I lean on the windowsill and watch it approach. “Libi, when is Herod supposed to arrive?”

  “His messenger said not until tomorrow.” She shakes the pillows and smoothes the wrinkles out of the bed. Joining me, she shades her eyes and watches the caravan move nearer. “Is that him?”

  Beneath us, a servant sprints across the courtyard shouting, “King Herod is coming!”

  I exchange a knowing glance with her. She makes a face. “I’ll tell Father.”

  My thin tunic ripples as I enter the hall and pass through the small group of men waiting outside Pilate’s office. They move out of my way, their arms heavy with scrolls. I enter without knocking and he looks up from his desk.

  “What are the architects doing here?”

  He indicates the plans spread out before him. “We’re starting construction on Tiberius’ temple again. What do you think about adding an arch here?”

  “Well, it would make more of an impression.” I lean against the desk and cross my arms. “Did you know Herod is almost to Caesarea?”

  Pilate smirks. “Yes. He always arrives a day early.”

  Knocking on the door, Demetrius enters. “You sent for me, Prefect?”

  “Herod is about an hour from the city. Ride out and escort him.” The tribune retreats and Pilate glances at me. “Can you bring the preparations forward?”

  “Avram has prepared for every possibility, but it is an inconvenience.”

  Marking out the arch, Pilate says, “That is the general idea. He’s hoping to catch us off guard, to put us at a disadvantage.”

  “Well, we’ll do our best not to accommodate him then.” I kiss him on the cheek and return to the hall, letting in his architects. Bare feet carry me downstairs and I oversee the last minute readying of the guest rooms. “Put fresh fruit in Herod’s chamber, he likes it. His horses can have the stall next to Pilate’s stallion. You can house his servants here and in the rooms above the stables. If there’s more than a dozen, we’ll make other arrangements.”

  “Should we go to the market and buy more figs? What about fish?”

  I nod and the boy dashes off. Libi follows me upstairs. “Which tunic?”

  “Blue. Herod likes sultry Roman women… let’s give him one.”

  Libi shakes out Hermina’s gift and pulls it over my head. She twists my hair into a knot, leaving loose curls around my face. I put on a bracelet and perfume. In the distance, we hear the sound of trumpets as Herod enters the city. I strap on my sandals, take a deep breath, and go to wait with my husband in the entrance hall.

  The garrison brings the caravan into our courtyard. We watch from the steps as Herod dismounts from his horse, a servant holding a shade over his head as he ascends the stairs. Intent, dark eyes shine out of a pudgy face tinged with redness. Slaves, servants, and noblemen and their wives accompany him. He grins as he reaches the top step. “Forgive my early arrival, Prefect. The journey took less time than I expected.”

  “Then you’ve never been to Caesarea before?” I ask with a smile.

  Amused eyes dart up at me before his servant returns his gaze to the ground. Herod’s mouth drops open and he stares at me. “Err…”

  “Herod, allow me to introduce you to my wife, Claudia.”

  Fat fingers adorned with rings clasp across the wide girth. “Ah, yes, I heard your wife traveled with you from Rome. Then it is to you I must apologize. I hope our early arrival isn’t an inconvenience.”

  “Not at all, King Herod, we’ve been expecting you.”

  The smirk leaves his face as I invite him indoors. He falls into step with me. “I’m sorry my wife didn’t come with me. She wanted to meet you.”

  “I’m sure we’ll have many opportunities to meet one another. My servants have prepared a feast for you in the main hall. You must excuse me, I will see to your slaves.” I lead him to the door and he passes through it, accompanied by his friends. Pilate winks at me and follows. Avram approaches and I ask softly, “Is everything in order?”

  He nods. “The living quarters are arranged and the rooms prepared.”

  “Good. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Smiling at him, I touch his arm and return to my guests.

  Herod hands me a cup of wine, his dark eyes lingering curiously on me. “You are a topic of much fascination here in Judea.”

  “Is it so unusual for a governor’s wife to accompany him?” I discreetly search for my husband and find him across the room, speaking with Demetrius. Pilate glances in my direction, his usual good humor subdued.

  Circling me, Herod says, “Roman wives usually prefer Roman cities.”

  “Isn’t Caesarea a Roman city?” I turn to him, searching his face.

  He leans against the table behind us. “Roman in occupation but not at heart; this is a volatile region.”

  “Pilate intends to change that.”

  Servants slip in and out, none of them making eye contact. Herod takes a sip from his cup. “He won’t do that by sending Roman ensigns into Jerusalem. His being a Roman governor is enough to turn many against him. The rest were undecided until last night, when his garrison reached Jerusalem.”

  Concerned, I look again at my husband. “What is your interest?”

  “I want Judea to stabilize. Insulting them won’t accomplish that.”

  Putting down my wine, I say, “Them? Not you?”

  “The Jews don’t like me any better than your husband, and they don’t respond well to signs of force. This is not Crete. Pilate should remember that.” His finger brushes my arm and he returns to the others.

  I make my way to my husband. “Herod knows.”

  Glancing at him, Pilate says, “I’m not surprised.”

  “What happens now?”

  Demetrius retreats and Pilate guides me onto the verandah. “We wait.”

  “Has anything happened in Jerusalem?”

  Guests mingle behind us. Pilate shakes his head. “They’ll come here.”

  “Is that what you want from them?” I ask.

  He smiles at me. “I want to see what happens.”

  Laughter spills out behind us as Herod wipes tears of mirth from his eyes. Pilate’s face darkens as he watches the man. “It’ll take at least three days to walk here from Jerusalem. Let’s see to it that Herod is gone by then.”

  “Pilate,” says Herod, joining us. “You’re building Tiberius’ temple?” The night air puts a flush in his cheeks.

  “Yes.”

  “You must show it to me!” Herod slaps him on the back. “I want to see it!”

  “If you insist…”

>   “I do, and you must come with us, Claudia.”

  Mid-morning the following day finds me in a chariot on a tour of Caesarea. Our first stop is the temple. Stonemasons are hard at work in the heat, cutting stone and constructing the elaborate foundation. I linger in the shade and watch as Pilate’s architects show Herod the completed designs. He looks unimpressed. Annoyance flashes across Pilate’s face and I take his hand. “He’s doing it to get a rise out of you,” I whisper.

  We drive to the amphitheater. Herod walks the stone steps under the Roman arches and his voice carries to us. “I’ve never cared for Caesarea’s design; it’s so … uncultured. The best architects in Rome designed my palace. You should employ some of them to work on your temple. I’ll have my scribe send you their names.”

  Pilate puts his tongue firmly in his cheek and does not answer. On our way home, as we walk through the gardens, Herod shields his eyes and stares out over the shoreline. “You’ll want to fortify the south port as the sea presses inland, or this place will be in ruins.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

  Two days with Herod is more than enough. He appears in unexpected places, insists on sitting next to me at meals, flatters, charms, and drinks. “If he looks at your breast one more time,” growls Pilate at supper, “I’ll kill him.”

  “I’ll get rid of him,” I answer under my breath. When the music ends, I take Herod by the arm and lead him into the hall. “It gave us pleasure having you with us, Herod Antipas,” I say.

  He beams. “Well, I—”

  “We’ll be so sorry to see you go in the morning.”

  The red face stares at me. Patting his pudgy fingers, I stop outside his room. “But we mustn’t be selfish and Galilee can’t rule itself! You will want to leave early before it gets too hot. I’ll make sure you have provisions for the trip.”

  Hours after Herod leaves, an angry Jewish mob gathers at our gates. Unnerved at their silence, I watch them sit in the street.