The Wolf and the Lamb (6 page)

Chapter X

Guided by Marius, Gamaliel and Loukas entered Pilate’s fetid cell. He did not stand to greet them. Gamaliel did not expect he would. Even in peril of his life, he would not give up his innate sense of superiority and official preeminence. Gamaliel pulled up a stool and sat without waiting for his permission.

“Do you suppose we could find a more salubrious place to do this, Prefect?”

“You do not find this room agreeable, Rabban? Every day you wander about the Temple Mount in a miasma of smoke created by the burning flesh of countless sheep, goats, birds, and bulls, yet you find this distasteful?”

“Yes, very. Is there?”

“I will see what I can do, but for the moment we must continue to meet here. Who have you brought with you?”

“This is my colleague and friend, Loukas. You have met once before, I believe. Among his many talents he is a Physician, and he is here to assist me.”

“I did not bargain for more than just your presence, Rabban.”

“Recall that I told you earlier I would need him and you agreed. So, here he is. He will inspect the dead man for me and also help with my poor Latin.”

“I have given you the boy and Rufus for that. Why another Latin speaker?”

“As I said, it is not that I don’t trust you, Prefect, but I suspect both the boy and Rufus will have a Roman bias. I am afraid they will hold back some of what they hear in the mistaken notion that it casts them or their allegiance to you in a bad light. Or they may decide that a particular bit of information is not important and leave it out. Besides, even I can tell the boy’s Latin is barely better than mine.”

“Redacting the conversations? Possibly, but shouldn’t that be their prerogative?”

“No. I do not want my information filtered by their biases. So, I require my own check on their reporting.”

Pilate twisted in his chair. “Did you hear that, Rufus? The Rabban thinks you might leave something out. Would you?”

“He would if he sensed it incriminating to you,” Gamaliel snapped while Rufus composed his answer.

“I see. Well, that would please me.”

“It might also doom you. Truth has many facets, Prefect, and if one only looks at those that please, you will miss it.”

“Philosophy, as I pointed out earlier, is the purview of the Greeks. Do not burden me with it now.”

“You must read the Proverbs in our Scripture. You will find that Greeks are not the only people who speculate on the meaning of life and how best to live it.”

“Some other day, Rabban. Now you must be about the business of finding irrefutable proof that someone else, not I, killed Aurelius.”

“Very well, I want Marius to escort Loukas to the body and then to the place where you found it. Loukas will need a great deal of light, so you might want to assign a soldier or two to be torch bearers. While he is busy with that, you will tell me everything that happened the day of the murder.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything, from the moment you awoke until you found yourself confined to this terrible place.”

“That may take a while.”

“Then we need to begin. Loukas, follow the boy. Rufus, stand ready to correct the Prefect’s account even if you think it makes him look bad. I must know everything as it happened and in the order it happened.”

Gamaliel listened to Pilate’s narrative, stopping him occasionally and asking him to repeat or clarify a particular point.

“When did the Centurion hand you the note to meet Aurelius?”

“Did I say the Centurion handed me a note?”

“It was implied.”

“You misunderstood. A legionnaire reported the message to me orally.”

“He spoke to you? I see. As there seem to be two separate sets of them, was this soldier one of yours or one that accompanied your visitors?”

“Is that important?”

“I should think it very important.”

“One soldier looks much like another. I don’t know.”

“Surely not. Please concentrate. Yours or theirs?” Pilate only shook his head. Gamaliel slapped his hand on the table. “Prefect, please, could it have been one of theirs?”

“I don’t know, perhaps, it could have been, yes. Satisfied?”

“Not even close. When did this exchange occur?”

“I thought I should honor the delegation from Rome. Actually it was my wife who thought of it. I proposed a banquet. They arrived a day earlier than I, as I told you, and as I had not been informed that they would be here, I needed some time to make ready.”

“You did not know they were coming?”

“No.”

“Is that usual?”

“Let us say that it is not unusual.”

“I see. So, a legionnaire approaches you at the banquet—”

“Before the banquet.”

“Before the banquet and gives you the message. What was the message, exactly?”

“It was to meet Priscus after the celebration was done.”

“And Priscus is the Centurion? It cited a specific location?”

“Yes.”

“Have you spoken to this Priscus since?”

“No.”

“Why not?’

“Better question, Rabban, why would I? He sent the message.”

“But he was not at the location when you arrived. Didn’t that strike you as odd? He sends an urgent message but isn’t at the scene when you arrive?”

“Not at all. I make it a habit of arriving early at meetings of that sort. I do not like surprises. I assume he practices that habit as well.”

“You assume that. Were you early to this one and he was not?”

“This one? Let me think. No, as a matter of fact, I was delayed. He must have been as well.”

Gamaliel closed his eyes and fought to suppress his frustration at Pilate’s opacity.

“Another assumption and even so, you had a surprise after all. And this equally late Centurion, might he have arrived after Cassia found you and fled for fear of being implicated.”

“It is entirely possible.”

“But you have not asked him this?”

“No.”

Gamaliel considered suggesting to Pilate that Priscus might have been party to the plan to implicate him in a murder and then thought it a better idea to wait and spring that on him later.

“I will need to interview him. Next question. You may not know the answer, but I wish you would venture a guess. How did Cassia come to be in that hallway at the precise moment you discovered the dead man? A moment sooner and you are in the clear. A moment later, you would have raised the alarm and been void of any incriminating evidence. But, miraculously, he appears at the precise moment when neither can occur. How did that happen?”

“I can only suppose he had been forewarned and followed me there.”

“Yes, very interesting, but if he had been forewarned, by whom, and could he have not prevented the murder?”

“You believe he set the thing in place himself? That Aurelius was sacrificed for some larger political purpose?” Pilate pursed his lips and nodded. “It would be consistent with how the elite operate in the capital. Yes, very good, Rabban. Those were my thoughts as well, but I cannot prove them.”

“I only think it is one possibility.”

“Only one?”

“We have only scratched the surface here. For example, how well do you get on with this Priscus? Then, you say there is a Tribune of some note in the visiting company. Who is he and why is he here? Could it be that he plotted to be your successor as Prefect? Perhaps it was not Aurelius who lusted after your position but this man, or even Rufus, here. How confident are you that he is not plotting against you?”

Rufus bolted from his chair and moved toward Gamaliel, his sword half out of its sheath.

“Easy, Rufus,” Pilate said. “He is only making a point. No one suspects you of anything. The Rabban is instructing me in the complexities of solving murderers. I take your point, Rabban. Why must you speak to the Centurion?”

“Why? Among other things, I wish to be certain that he did, in fact, send the message, not someone else.”

“Rufus, fetch Priscus the Centurion here and then find that Physician. He must be finished with poor Aurelius by now. Anything else, Rabban?”

“Yes, where is the messenger?”

“Where? I have no idea. In the barracks, or standing guard, or patrolling. Who knows? I told you, it was not a written message, only delivered to me verbally.”

“I want to speak to that soldier as well.”

“I have no idea who he was. As I said, one legionnaire looks much like another to me. Theirs, ours, what difference does it make.”

“A great deal. Listen carefully, if I understood you correctly, there are not two as I believed earlier, but three sets of legionnaires in play here. There are those who arrived with you from Caesarea, those who form the permanent garrison in Jerusalem, and those who accompanied the delegation from Rome. Only the latter are beyond your control. Have I got that right?”

“Yes, I hadn’t thought of it that way. I don’t see why dividing the first two is important, though.”

“Perhaps there is none, but you are not in contact with the garrison here on an everyday basis. They would be less familiar to you, wouldn’t they? And that could be important. I do not know why at the moment, but it is something to be considered. At any rate understanding the shape of everything is important. One last question for now, but there will be others, many others, later on. Who had access to your dagger? Knowing that will limit the number of suspected killers if the people who might have taken it are few.”

“Anyone with access to my apartments, my baggage, and my things could have stolen it.”

“Obviously you did not wear it to the banquet?”

“No.”

“Did you intend to?”

“It occurred to me, and when I couldn’t locate it right away, I dismissed the thought. No one would notice.”

“So you missed the dagger at the outset? That didn’t upset you?”

“Things were still being unpacked and sorted. I was busy. I put the loss down to the momentary confusion.”

“Which would make stealing it that much easier.”

“Yes.”

“And Cassia, even though he had arrived ahead of you by a day, recognized it as yours without your telling him?”

“Yes…now that is interesting. I hadn’t thought of that. How would he know it was mine? Very good, Rabban. We are making progress.”

“I wish that were so. All we have established is the possibility that you were part of an elaborate scheme to oust you from office. We have no idea why or by whom.”

Loukas entered the room with Rufus who shrugged. “I cannot locate the Centurion,” he said.

Loukas nodded to Gamaliel and jerked his head toward the door. Gamaliel nodded and stood. He glanced around the room as if trying to locate something or someone and then stood.

“Prefect,” he said, “I will leave you now. Loukas and I must discuss what we have found and you will not be privy to the content of that conversation.”

“I insist that I hear it.”

“Sorry, not now, later perhaps. Young Marius, lead the way. Loukas and I need fresh air, and light, and time to think through what we’ve learned so far. I will need to speak to the Centurion, Priscus. Will you find him for me, please?”

Chapter XI

Gamaliel paid close attention to the route Marius took when they exited the dank lower reaches of the Antonia Fortress. He wanted to be sure that if he had to, he could extricate himself from its twists and turns without the boy’s assistance.

“Where are we headed?” Loukas asked once they reached daylight.

“Some place where the possibility of being overheard by one or the other of the Roman’s agents is limited.”

“Whose Roman agents, Cassia’s, Pilate’s, or the mysterious Tribune and his legionnaires’?”

“Since we do not know the extent of any of their involvement, except for Pilate, all of them. We will go to the Temple. They dare not pass beyond the Court of the Gentiles. That includes Marius.”

“You don’t trust the boy?”

“Would you?” He pivoted in place and addressed the boy. “Marius, should I trust you to keep the things we discuss from the Prefect?”

The boy’s gaze slid sideways. “Sir?”

“As I thought. To the Temple, Loukas, we have much to discuss.”

Herod’s Temple loomed against the skyline just south of the Fortress. Its sheer size nearly blocked the late afternoon sun and cast shadows halfway across the vast court that stretched between it and the Fortress. When they entered its inner courtyards, the boy became agitated.

“Stay here, boy,” Gamaliel said. “This area is known as the Treasury. Don’t look so hopeful, there is not much in the way of treasure, as you understand the word, but there is shade and if you behave yourself, one of the
kohen
might offer you a drink. The Physician and I will be over there.” He pointed in the general direction of the Temple proper and walked away through the Court of the Women and through the Nicanor Gate. Once within the Court of the Israelites, he turned and faced Loukas.

“Tell me what you discovered from the dead man.”

“Not much that you hadn’t already been told. The killing was very efficiently done, a single dagger stroke directed downward and straight into the heart. Whoever wielded that knife knew exactly what he was doing.”

“Someone trained as a soldier?”

“Yes, more than likely, or as a Physician.”

“Which would include nearly any and all of the people currently in residence in the Fortress, including Pilate. I assume you are not putting yourself forward as a suspect.”

“I am not. As to the rest, yes, except for the women.”

“Not a woman? You’re sure of that?” Loukas nodded his head. “That is not much help. Could it have been a suicide?”

“That is very unlikely. The dagger was, as I said, thrust downward from above. You cannot fall on your dagger positioned that way unless you begin by standing on your head. Ramming it home on your own would be both difficult and require a level of determination beyond most men. Were you seriously thinking suicide?”

“No, but if it were a possibility, it casts doubt on an absolute verdict of murder, you see?”

“I am afraid I don’t.”

“Roman law and, if I remember correctly, as ours, requires that a judgment of guilt in a crime of this seriousness must be based on evidence that meets the standard of clarity that allows no doubt. If I could make Pilate’s accusers admit the man might have killed himself, that is, create even a sliver of doubt, they would have to dismiss the charge.”

“You are planning a legal defense on the basis of
non liquet
?”

“If what you just said means Pilate’s guilt is not clear enough to convict, yes. I am looking for a quick exit from this labyrinth I have been placed in. That sort of verdict would not have repercussions coming back to me, although it would not help much in Pilate’s continuance in his position as Prefect. Is there anything else you can tell me about the wound, aside from the expertise in application?”

“I knew you would ask and yes, I noticed one oddity. I saw no evidence the man attempted to defend himself.”

“His killer slips up on him and stabs him in the chest and he does not try to stop him. How does one do that? He must have been very quick, or Aurelius was somehow distracted.”

“Perhaps, but here is the difficulty. Assume you are Aurelius Decimus and I am your attacker. So, I approach you thus,” Loukas stepped forward and raised his arm as if to stab downward. “How could you not see me and then, what do you do?”

“I am sure I would at least put up my hands to ward off the blow. I might try to push my attacker away and failing that…I see what you mean. I would duck, twist, fight, do something to avoid being stabbed. There is no evidence he did any of those things?”

“None. I suppose it could be argued that the killer approached unseen. If some of the torches in the hallway had not been lighted or were extinguished beforehand, but—”

“It is unlikely he did not see his killer. So, we have another puzzle. Why did an apparently healthy and ambitious man not defend himself from an obvious attempt on his life, a successful one as it turns out? You are not making this any easier for me, Loukas.”

“It does introduce an element of doubt, though.”

“A small one, yes, but not enough to exonerate our client. If I read the situation correctly, those visitors to the Fortress seem determined to destroy the Prefect. It will take an argument the size of Noah’s ark to move them from their course.”

“There were other things that struck me as odd.”

“Yes?”

“There were bruises under his jaw.”

“Bruises. That’s it? Not much to work with there. Might he have been drunk? If he was not in position of his senses, he might not have realized his danger and then was too late when he did.”

“I could not tell, Rabban. He had been dead too long to test his breath for any odor of wine, and I could find none on his clothing. Then there is the nature of the stabbing.”

“In what way is that a problem?”

“Why stab a man that way? If a person approaches another and lifts his hand up with a dagger…well, as we noted, he didn’t try to defend himself, but with the dagger poised thus, unless the Roman stood stock still and allowed himself to be murdered, it makes no sense at all. Even a flinch, a move to the right or left, and the dagger could not have ever achieved such surgical precision.”

“An extremely important observation. Have you an answer?”

“I wish.”

“What have we so far? Aurelius Decimus, for reasons we can only guess at, goes into the underbelly of the Antonia Fortress and a figure looms up brandishing a knife. Before he can react, he is stabbed once in the chest, the killer flees, and Pilate arrives and stumbles over the body. Then, amazingly, Cassia, responding to a different call from a source at which we can only guess, comes on the scene in time to find Pilate with blood on his hands and his personal dagger in the chest of Aurelius. How does that sequence of events strike you, Loukas?”

“It is as odoriferous as the smoke rising from the altar over there. You think someone planned this whole sorry affair.”

“I do. Stated thus should create a reasonable amount of doubt in the mind of his accusers. Unfortunately, the plot could well have originated with them, so they will not see it. We must find something else to attack them with.”

“As you say. So, what do we do now?”

“Next, we retire to your courtyard or mine, refresh ourselves, and make a list of questions needing answers.”

“Such as?”

“We know what drew Pilate to that corridor, but why did Aurelius go there? Was he sent? Did he receive a message similar to the one delivered to Pilate? If so, who sent these messages? Did Priscus send the one to Pilate and then retreat in a panic when he saw the officials arrest Pilate? Was the Honorable Priscus part of the plot? If not, where was the Centurion in all this? Alternatively, is it possible that he had a private motive for disgracing Pilate and is the man who killed our noble? How did Pilate’s dagger find its way into the hands of the killer? What—”

“Yes, yes, enough. I follow you. Let’s do the rest of this exposition in my court. I have been watching your
Kohanim,
and an idea just occurred to me about how the stabbing might have been done.”

“What? How?”

“My court, fresh wine, some shade, and relief from this billowing smoke. What does your friend the old priest call it?”

“Jakob ben Aschi calls it Holy Smoke.