The Wolf and the Lamb (15 page)

Chapter XXIX

Cassia Drusus reclined on his couch and contemplated his supper. Its aroma resembled nothing he’d experienced and differed in ways he could not describe but which, nonetheless, caused him to tilt his head up and to the side to move his nose away from his plate. The dish held food he preferred not to identify even though he recognized it for what it was—goat, lentils, and some sort of glazed fruit. Even the local
garum
didn’t help. He’d already sent the young fig leaves sautéed in olive oil away. Jerusalem did not have access to the sorts of delicacies he’d expected. These strange people abhorred so many things that normal people savored. For example, he hadn’t seen, much less tasted, an oyster since he’d left Rome, and you could forget anything even resembling pork. They ate goat and mutton, chicken and beef—peasant food, and they expected him to eat it. A swan…now that was a meal, glazed with fruit. Some eels washed down with a decent Ligurian wine—that was dining, not this overcooked country fare. The local wine tasted like rotten fruit or tree bark, that is, if it hadn’t already turned. The bread would break a tooth if you weren’t careful and the rest…he shook his head and grimaced.

The Tribune occupied the couch opposite and swirled wine in his cup. “You are not happy, Cassia. Is it the food, the company, or the place?”

“All of those and the idiocy that brought us here, Tribune.”

“We cannot do much about any of them and especially not the ‘idiocy.’ The Steward tells me, that during the feast to their god, or whatever it is they are about to celebrate, there will be no women available either. The place is worse than Germania in the winter.”

“Or Britannia in any season.”

“I don’t care how long these people have existed as a Nation, I have had more comfortable evenings in a tent, in the winter, eating bear meat and roots than in this dreary Fortress.”

“That sums up the greater portion of my problem, Tribune, but not all of it.”

“What then?”

“This celebration they have, Passover, is nearly on us. The Prefect is here to represent the Emperor. We have removed him from public view.”

“And? He is arrested. He murdered Aurelius Decimus. What is the problem?”

“He has certain ceremonial duties to perform. If he does not appear at whatever time and place where he is expected or, worse, never appears at all, questions will be raised. Answers will be suggested. Rumors will fly and people may think that because the Emperor’s representative is absent, the Empire is somehow vulnerable.”

“That is nonsense. They have only to look around them. We have legionnaires out in full force. How does that make us vulnerable? No, you worry too much, Drusus.”

“I don’t think so. These people place great store in events progressing in predictable ways. If the sequence is altered or broken, they become restless. The more radical among them will form a wrong impression about the state of things and we could have violence. It is of no importance that our soldiers are deployed in force if a riot starts. You cannot tell me that those icy men you brought with you will hesitate to thrust their swords into the belly of anyone who so much as frowns at them. That can only make things worse. We dare not allow bloodshed on their holy day. You saw the letters Rufus carries. The Senate is angry at Pilate for allowing things to get out of hand in the past. Imagine what those patricians will say if we, acting in lieu of the Prefect, allow it to happen in his stead?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Pilate is not going anywhere. There is no easy flight path off this hill. We should allow him to perform his duties in the days ahead. Then, if anything goes wrong, if confrontations or violence occurs, he, not you or I, will be to blame.”

“That is very clever of you, Cassia, but will Pilate go along? He is not brilliant, but he is not stupid either. He will see right through it.”

“As you say, he is not stupid and, more importantly, knows the limits he can go to with these people. He is a proud man. He will acquiesce because not to do so will deprive him of one more chance to strut in front of these wretched people. Oh, he will do it, never fear. He will not be able to resist.”

“Then set that in place, but he is not to leave the Antonia Fortress. We will assign two of the men you describe as ‘icy’ to be with him at all times.”

“Done.”

“I am not finished. Tell him also that in four days time we leave for Rome, and barring a miracle, he will be in our company.”

“What shall we do if he is able to find a surrogate to shoulder the blame for the murder of Aurelius?”

“He goes anyway.”

“On what charge?”

“We revert to our original orders.”

***

Gamaliel made his way homeward in the twilight. Lights flickered through the windows of the Great Hall of the Sanhedrin. He wondered what that meant. He had no knowledge of a scheduled meeting and no one had approached him about there being one. Something was afoot. He brushed aside the thought that formed in his mind as to what that might be. He had his own problems to attend to. He shrugged and moved on.

Loukas walked with him a ways and reported his findings about the missing bits and pieces at the amphitheater and the possibility its actors had gone missing. Gamaliel had expected as much, although he could not say why. The missing dagger, he told Loukas, meant that the patrician’s murder had been premeditated and over time. He filled the Physician in on what he’d learned from Agon and from the bladesmiths, which pretty much confirmed his notion that the murder had been premeditated. Finally, as the sun began to slip behind the city walls in the west, he’d bid Loukas goodnight. He would send a messenger if they needed to meet on the morrow. At the moment he needed time to think. He needed to study the branches on the thorny tree of information that had sprung up in the last days and then do some judicious pruning. They suffered from having too little and too much. A proper paradox.

He greeted Binyamin who scolded him for his lateness and laid his meal. It had turned cold, but Gamaliel hardly noticed. He picked at his food and for the hundredth time that week wondered if engaging in this business with the Prefect had anything at all to do with the Lord’s will for him—for either of them. Was he really
iustus
as Pilate claimed, Gamaliel the just man, or had he succumbed to the sin of pride? He pushed away his plate and retired to his reading room. The Isaiah Scroll still lay on his desk. It had come partly unrolled. He glanced at the exposed passage.

Behold my servant, whom I uphold; mine elect, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him: he shall bring forth judgment to the Gentiles.
 
He shall not cry, nor lift up, nor cause his voice to be heard in the street. A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench: he shall bring forth judgment unto truth. He shall not fail nor be discouraged, till he has set judgment in the earth: and the isles shall wait for his law.

Gamaliel frowned and reread the passage several times. Though he would probably never admit it publically, he believed that a prophet’s writings were to be understood situationally. That is, the book’s words were to be understood by their reader to the extent that the circumstances which occupied his thoughts and energies at that moment resonated with the teaching. Passages that did not match them, did not do that. And frequently a passage that fit one set of circumstances on one day would miraculously fit a diametrically different set on the next. He could not teach so flexible an interpretation of Holy Writ to his students or state it publicly. Indeed, he hesitated to think it himself. But he held to it.

Since the scroll had been rolled shut earlier, but now lay open to reveal that passage to him, he wondered what the Lord intended. Obviously, He wanted him to see it. The possibility of the scroll opening by itself never occurred to him. He had fastened it himself. Binyamin had no interest in scripture and no reason to enter the room, much less unloose the tie. Gamaliel pressed his palms to his temples. What did it mean?

Justice. Whether he wished to or not, whether he would suffer for it or not, whether he succeeded or not, his calling was to pursue justice irrespective of the consequences to himself or the Nation.

He stood like that for a long moment and then retired to his bed chamber.

YOM REVI’I

Chapter XXX

Binyamin woke Gamaliel early. A visitor, he said. An important person waited and insisted on seeing the Rabban at once. Who? Binyamin muttered a name which Gamaliel did not catch. Binyamin left before he could ask him to repeat it. Gamaliel eased out of his bed and did his best to make himself presentable. He should have gone straight into the house and berated Binyamin for disturbing the morning routine. He had not had his morning prayers, his breakfast, or his ablutions. What sort of visitor could demand his immediate presence? Who stood in such a lofty position that Binyamin would disrupt the day in such a manner?

Josef of Arimathea waited for him in his great room. He looked worried.

“
Ha Shem,
Josef. This visit must be of great importance for you to be up and about so early. Can I offer you some refreshment? I have not had my morning meal. Will you join me?” Without saying so, Gamaliel wanted the old man to know he’d inconvenienced him.

“My deepest apologies, Rabban, but it is a matter of great urgency that brings me here. I pray the Lord and you will forgive me.”

“Urgency? What has happened?” Gamaliel had a feeling he was not going to like the answer. He did not know why, but in his experience bad news never traveled alone. He had Pilate’s problems and he guessed he was about to be handed another. A vision of the High Priest flashed before his eyes. Rabbi Yeshua had been apprehended and the High Priest said he had a plan.

“Caiaphas has arrested Yeshua. He is—”

“I know who he is, the rabbi from Nazareth. The High Priest has been bending my ear about him for years. I know he arrested him. What new information do you have for me?”

“That is just it. He has no grounds. The arrest does not conform to the limits of the Law. He is acting alone in this. I warned him and he—”

“Slow down, Josef. First, he can detain anyone if he believes the person in question has crossed the line in terms of blasphemy, for instance. I believe he does in this case. I have told him I believe he is mistaken, but he will not hear it.”

“There, you see. He intends to put Yeshua on trial today.”

“Josef, I take it, listening to the passion in your voice, that you are a supporter of this rabbi?”

“Not I alone, Rabban. There are others.”

“Very well, then know this. Caiaphas cannot try anyone. That is the business for the Court and I, with a panel of senior rabbis, must preside. Also, even if there were to be a trial, it cannot happen in so short a time. There is evidence to be gathered, witnesses to be interviewed, and the accused has the right to representation and time to prepare. No, Josef, there will be no trial anytime soon. Caiaphas told me he would only have a hearing. He can do that, if he wishes.”

“He maintains it is a trial, and he will have it today. You must come.”

“I cannot do that, Josef. If there is to be a trial, I must sit as judge. To hold a trial on this kind of notice would make it and any findings forthcoming invalid. As such, it violates the rule of Law and because of that, I will not attend. Also, if I were to attend this gathering which Caiaphas bills as a hearing and if there were to be a trial later, I would not be able to judge the merits of the case impartially. I must not have my judgment biased by what is said in the hearing. Since a hearing is the only thing he can authorize, I am limited. So, no, I will not attend.”

“What shall I do to stop the High Priest?”

“Again, speaking from my experience with the man, you can do nothing to stop him. You should remind him of what I just said about the rights of the accused, and if you want more leverage to slow this thing down, remind every witness he produces about the penalties perjury carries. That may soften or alter some of their testimony.”

It took Gamaliel another half hour to calm Josef down. He finally left to attend Caiaphas’ trumped-up hearing. Gamaliel did his best to reorder his morning into something approaching the norm. When he had finished, he set out for Loukas’ house. He’d originally planned to send a messenger to Loukas and ask the Physician to meet at his home, but time had slipped away from him and the possibility of endless interruptions by Yeshua’s or Caiaphas’ supporters demanding he render an opinion or a judgment, attend the gathering, or some combination of the two, convinced him he should make himself scarce. He told Binyamin that he should inform all callers the Rabban was neither available nor at home. If they insisted on seeing him, they were to wait in the garden. He made sure Binyamin had the instructions firmly in mind and left.

***

Gamaliel ran into Loukas in the street, apparently on the way to Gamaliel’s home.

“
Ha Shem,
Loukas. You are well met. I cannot stay at my house today.”

“Cannot, why ever not?”

He explained the difficulties created by the High Priest’s actions. Loukas smiled and shook his head. He found Caiaphas’ antics concerning the Galilean rabbi a constant source of amusement. He suggested to Gamaliel that it might make a good farce for the theater company, and perhaps they should drop by the amphitheater and suggest it to the players. Gamaliel did not share the Physician’s sense of the humor.

“Rome already has a low opinion of the Nation. More ridicule in their theater could only make things worse. Besides, you said yourself that there are no players in residence.”

A legionnaire stood at the portal which before had provided access to Pilate and to the Fortress. He held up his hand and refused the two men entry. Gamaliel explained he had a commission from the Prefect himself. The soldier only stared and repeated his refusal. Surely, Gamaliel thought, the Prefect had not been removed from office and locked away somewhere. Worse, was he already on his way to Rome?

“Let us retreat and regroup,” Gamaliel said and turned to leave.

Loukas stared up the steps that led to the wide plaza that faced the Temple. “Don’t you want to know what has happened to the Prefect?”

“Certainly.”

“Look up, Rabban. Our Prefect is in place. Something has happened and he is set free. You can simply climb the stairs and there you are.”

“Now that is interesting. I would like to know the how of that, but to approach him in an open manner could compromise both our investigation and me. Our best advice would be to bide our time. If the Prefect has been exonerated by some other device, so much the better, and we are done. If all is lost, we are also finished. It only matters if his situation somehow sits at the midpoint.”

“Sits in the middle of what?”

“Exoneration or certain death. We must wait until we know which it shall be and that, in turn, will tell us what to do next. Now, Loukas, without drawing attention to yourself, I want you to scan the Temple Mount and tell me if anyone is acting suspiciously.”

“Pardon? Suspicious?”

“I have the impression we are being watched. I cannot say why I believe it, but I believe the boy is tracking us like a lion following a herd of sheep.”

“The boy? You mean Marius? I would hardly call him a lion.”

“Point taken, like a lamb looking for his mother, but tracking nonetheless. Now your back is to the Fortress. Just scan the crowd and tell me what you see.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am. Tell me.”

Loukas sighed and let his gaze pan across the crowded Temple Mount. “You do realize the futility of this exercise. The place is choked with people. How can you expect me to pick out a suspicious person in this melee?”

“Crowds can distract you, but you must learn to discount them. Most of these people are here for a reason. They will move purposefully. They head to the Temple with their sacrifices, or they return. They engage in conversations or listen to one of the numerous rabbis on the porches. What you are looking for is someone with apparently no purpose at all. He, or maybe she, will be alone or mixed in a crowd but clearly not a part of it.”

“I see. With that in mind, I have four candidates for you. None of them is the boy.”

“He will have altered his appearance.”

“If you say so. Very well, here are your ‘suspicious’ people. First, there is a woman by the wall over to your left. She is not looking at us. She seems to be absorbed in one of the guards. A plausible occupation for one so young, I should say. Second, about halfway to the Temple on a straight line from here there are three men who appear to be someone’s servants pretending to have a conversation. And finally, ten cubits further along, there is a tall legionnaire who seems out of place. He looks too old to be in the Emperor’s service, and why would a soldier be lounging against a fountain instead of patrolling or standing guard?”

“There, you see, you can sort through a crowd and spot possible problems. Now let us wander into the Souk and see if any or all follow us.”