The Wolf and the Lamb Read online

  “That is all well and good but, with respect, you have not answered my question. Why are you here in this shabby room and arrested for what?”

  “Patience, Rabban. You of all people should know that proper exposition requires time and a certain attention to detail and to context.”

  “I do know that. I did not realize you did as well. In all our dealings in the past I have never seen any evidence of this virtue on your part.”

  “Best keep a careful tongue in your head, Rabban. I may be constrained at the moment, but I am still the Prefect, and you are still a subject under the Emperor’s rule.”

  “My apologies. Pray continue. I shall be silent and listen.”

  “Good. So, these men and their entourages arrived a few days ago. Among them I discovered an old rival. Do you know how it is to be walking along the street and there is someone behind you who wishes to pass but cannot? He presses hard and close and his boots continuously tread on your heels.”

  “I can’t say that I have, but I take your point. So, one of these visitors has lusted after your position and place?”

  “Exactly. For years, Aurelius Decimus has been the one dogging my heels. Within months of my appointment to any new position, he would begin a campaign to take it from me. It never worked, but it was never a pleasant experience. He spread one calumny after another about my character. I believe it is why I have been posted here and not to Africa or Sicily. I thought when Tiberius sent me to this godforsaken place, I was done with Aurelius. But no, he arrived with the detachment from Rome determined, I assume, to find fault with my performance and attempt to wrest the post from me by reporting my failures to the Emperor.”

  “This Aurelius had you arrested?”

  Pilate raised his hand, palm out. “Listen, Rabban. I will tell all, but in my own time. No, he did not. He could not. He is dead, murdered, and I am accused of doing the murdering. That is why I languish in this dreary cell.”

  “And that is why I did not receive my usual detachment of legionnaires to escort me here.”

  “Your usual detachment of…? Oh, I see. Yes.”

  “And there is more. Of course there is. Sorry, go on.”

  “The man who put me in this position is named Cassia, Cassia Drusus. He has been commissioned by the Emperor to inspect the various outposts in the Empire, to root out disloyalty, inefficiency, and corruption, or so he says.”

  “You have some doubts as to his mission?”

  “You will interrupt won’t you, Rabban? I suppose it comes from a lifetime of disputation. We are not in that modality now, so please listen.”

  “But I only ask because it may bear on the rest—”

  “Please…now, with these sorts of official visits, that is, visits ordered by the Emperor, one never really knows. He might be speaking the truth and, then again, he might not. Politics, Rabban, surely you have politics in your Sanhedrin.”

  “Only to the extent your Emperor imposes them on us, but that is a topic for another day. On what basis did Cassia Drusus determine you had murdered your rival? Obviously, if this Aurelius person was found dead, you must be a prime suspect if what you have told me is correct, but to arrest you?”

  “Please do not barge in again. Cassia arrested me because he found me bent over the still-warm body of a very dead Aurelius, with his blood on my hands, and my dagger in his heart.”

  “Your dagger? That is unfortunate, but also interesting, importantly so I should say. Your dagger, truly?”

  “Mine.”

  “I see. Well, to be fair to this Cassia person, it seems a reasonable conclusion. I must ask…sorry, I cannot play at this logical exposition you insist on following. I take it you did not, in fact, dispatch the man.”

  “Are you mad? Certainly not.”

  “But you were discovered with the body, red-handed, you could say. How did this incriminating scene come about and why were you at the scene in the first place?”

  “If you want to hear the story, you must stop interrupting and listen. I received a message from one of my Centurions stating that he had urgent information for me that he needed to deliver in private. I thought he might have a line on my visitors’ real purpose for being in the city. The message named the time and the place. When I arrived, there was no Centurion, only a dead Aurelius.”

  “And Cassia Drusus?”

  “He arrived moments later.”

  “In time to find you in that compromising position. Yes, I see. Prefect, forgive me, but before you continue, I must ask you a question. Your story is indeed interesting, but why are you telling it to me and, as a corollary, why am I here?”

  “I would have thought that would be obvious, Rabban. I did not stab Aurelius. Our law, as yours, requires proof of guilt. I assure you that Cassia and the rest of the Emperor’s men have no interest in establishing my innocence. They may go through the motions of holding an inquiry, but it will only be for show, to meet the letter of the law. No, they intend to ship me back to Rome after the Passover to be tried by the Senate. In Rome, Rabban, they will send me to Rome. How can I possibly defend myself from the charges at such a remove?”

  “I would say not easily, if at all.”

  “There, you see? If I cannot clear myself here and now, I am doomed. That is why I called you.”

  “Wait.” Gamaliel started to rise but his legs failed him. “You dragged me to this wretched hole in the expectation that I would sort out Aurelius’ murder on your behalf? It is impossible.”

  “Nevertheless, you will. We have very little time before they leave with or without me. You will see to it that I do not accompany them.”

  Chapter V

  The two men contemplated one another across the table’s scarred planking. How far had the Prefect fallen? The most powerful man in the Palestine, stripped of his powers, pleading for help from Gamaliel, the chief rabbi of the race of men and of the religion he despised. Gamaliel leaned back and gazed for several moments at this man he both feared and pitied. Except for the hissing from the burning torches, the room was quiet, and although he could not see them, he was almost certain he heard rats scampering about in the dark. The torches guttered and smoked. If fresh air did not find its way into the room and soon, Gamaliel believed, they would both expire from asphyxiation. Finally, Pilate spoke.

  “You see how it is, Rabban. Interveni pro me auxilium tuum. I must beg for your help.” He was pleading, but precious little humility found its way into his tone of voice. Gamaliel guessed it would be all that he would get. If he were to establish his position, it would have to be now.

  “Indeed, I can see that. Tell me, Prefect…shall I continue to call you that? Tell me why I should be bothered with establishing your innocence or guilt? You know as well as I do that most, if not all, of my people would rejoice at your downfall. If you are not the most disliked man in all of the Palestine, you come in a close second. Furthermore—”

  “Furthermore if you defend me and do so successfully, as I have no doubt you will, you will join me in the ranks of those hated by your own people. Yes, I know that.”

  “Yet, you bring me here to make the request. Why?”

  “You have a weakness which, ironically, is also your greatest strength.”

  “What? A weakness that is also…please, do not burden me with Latin sophistry. I prefer not to deal in paradoxes, clever aphorisms, or word games. Why should I care about your sorry predicament?”

  “Rabban, your weakness, and simultaneously your strength, is that you are a righteous man. You are iustus, a just man. It does not matter if you would prefer to ignore wrongdoing, even among your enemies; you are incapable of doing so. I am counting on that.”

  “You presume, sir. I may be, as you imply, blindly righteous, but at the same time, I am not a fool. I have a position to maintain and, believe it or not, I will do anything in my limited power to see you and your countrymen removed from this land—all of you at once or one at a time, if necessary, and as soon as possible.”
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br />   “I know that, Rabban, but consider the following. While the Greeks are philosophers and Arabs have the corner on mathematics at the moment—although there are those who might argue—the important thing to remember is that Romans are pragmatists. Pragmatic people, Rabban, and behind all that devotion to your Law and your holy books and your feigned indifference to politics, you are as well.”

  Gamaliel started to protest. Whether or not the Prefect had it right or not, he resented being lumped together with these hated people.

  “Tut. Let me finish. Because we share this characteristic, whether you want to admit it or not, you will eventually come to realize that I am no different from any of a hundred, a thousand men like me. You see how it is? Like it or not, if I fall from grace, one of them will replace me within days, possibly even hours. I assure you, if Cassia or any of the other members of the mission who have taken possession of my apartments and usurped my authority, were to replace me, the lives of your people would not improve one unica. Wouldn’t you prefer the enemy you know to the one you do not?”

  “May the Lord forgive me. You are all alike. Why am I not surprised?”

  “Alas, yes we are. Well, except for Rufus. He is more like you. He harbors affection for doing the right thing by people, even those with no standing. Which is why, I tell him repeatedly, he will never rise very far in the Empire. You will like Rufus.”

  “Rufus? And you believe I shall meet him?”

  “Oh yes, certainly. How else will you interview witnesses? Surely you do not believe my captors and colleagues will willingly submit to questioning by a non-citizen and a Hebrew at that?”

  “I cannot believe that they would care an ass’ ear what I managed to discover, even your innocence, should I prove it. You may be pragmatists, as you say, but you are also xenophobes and arrogant to boot. They will not care, Prefect.”

  “If I were not in the position I currently hold, would you dare to speak to me in that tone? I will answer for you. You would not. You would be choosing your words with great care. Mind you, you would have said the same thing, but you would have treaded only so close to the line you have just now crossed.”

  “That is very observant of you, Excellency. I cannot tell you how delightful it felt. I might ask for your forgiveness later. Then again, I might not. If I walk out of here now, it is a near certainty I will never see you again.”

  “I am counting on you not walking out and on receiving that apology later.”

  Gamaliel sighed. Pilate was right. If the Prefect could persuade him of his innocence and convince him that not acting on his behalf would bring about an injustice, he would not abandon him.

  “There are other reasons why I cannot accept your commission, if that is what this is.”

  “Oh, yes, many. I am fully aware of the limitations placed on you. But do I have another choice? I do not. You, in spite of your stiff-necked religiosity, burn for the truth. If anyone can unravel this business, it is the Rabban of the Sanhedrin. Besides, none of my people will touch it with a barge pole. Yes, you will be severely limited. On the other hand, you will be free enough. Tell me what you need.”

  “I need nothing, Prefect. I cannot do this. Your people will not speak to me. How can I possibly interrogate them as to their whereabouts on that day? I cannot even roam freely about this building. My Law and yours will not permit it. If I can do none of these things, my hands are tied. You are expecting a miracle.”

  “I am expecting only that the shrewdest man in the land will do his best to uncover the truth.”

  “And if I fail?”

  “My enemies and your countrymen will rejoice. Imagine. Finally they will have something in common.”

  “You are being needlessly cynical, Prefect. Your more immediate danger lies with me. It is clearly more in my interest to fail than to succeed. Why then would I try?”

  “Rabban, Rabban, sometimes you are so innocent. You will only fail if you cannot, after applying yourself diligently to the problem, find the truth. It is your nature to pursue it as a dog will worry a bone.”

  “I have no familiarity with dogs or their worries.”

  “Your people regard them as pariahs, yes, I know. Too bad for you, but the imagery stands. It is your nature to do the right thing.”

  Gamaliel closed his eyes. He’d been had, no doubt about it, and the prospect of attempting to pry the truth from this race of self-satisfied despots would be nearly impossible. He tried once more to dissuade the Prefect from burdening him with the task which closely resembled farming the cracks between paving stones.

  “Tell me, then, Prefect, with your authority usurped, how do you expect me to interview those who might be involved? How will your people take the news that I have discovered that one of them is a murderer, for example?”

  “As to the latter, not well, I imagine. But in the end, they will accept it because they believe in the law and the untrammeled application of it. Then they will probably hound you to death.”

  “You are not making this easy for me.”

  “Very well. I will give you Rufus. If it appears that your investigation wanders down that particular path, then he—and not you—will have discovered it. It might save your life and would certainly garner him a promotion.”

  “I will need more than this Rufus as surrogate.”

  “Name it.”

  “To begin, I will need my friend, the Physician Loukas, to inspect the body. Can you deliver the corpse to me? Then, I will want him full time to assist me as well. He is sufficiently Hellenized to pass as one of you, and he can move about the Fortress without attracting the attention I would. I will send him to the place where the body was found as I need a full understanding of it. Also, his Latin is passable so he can help Rufus translate if your friends insist on speaking Latin instead of Greek.”

  “And also to make sure that Rufus translates accurately?”

  “That, too, and I will need access to any and all who might shed light on the matter.”

  “Done. When can you start?”

  “This afternoon. Now, I must go and find Loukas. He will not be happy. You will bring the dead man to some place where it can be viewed and brief this Rufus person on what is happening.”

  Chapter VI

  The boy told him his name was Marius. “After Mars, the god of war,” he’d announced. Gamaliel thought he did so somewhat too proudly. Romans and their love of conquest and violence, even when naming their slaves. Marius, Pilate said, would be his dirige.

  “My what? Prefect, you know my Latin is spotty at best. What is this boy to me?”

  “He is to be your guide. You may use him to send and receive messages. He will be, for the term of your investigation, your devoted servant.”

  “I will need a great deal more than this boy to do what you expect of me.”

  “At the moment, he will have to do.”

  Gamaliel and his dirige left the room and headed out to the fresher air of the Temple Mount. At least he hoped so. Gamaliel had no idea how to find his way out and left to his own devices he believed he would be lost forever in the lower reaches of the Antonia Fortress, his bones to be found after decades of fruitless searching. Who would search? His bones would never be found. They two had not gone more than ten steps when a figure loomed up from the shadows. So sudden was its appearance that Gamaliel’s heart skipped a beat. The boy stumbled and dropped to one knee.

  “Madam,” the boy stammered.

  Ah, it seemed the figure was a woman. Gamaliel could not be sure in the dim light and with many layers of fabric swathing the figure. Ignoring the boy, the woman stepped up to Gamaliel.

  “You are Gamaliel, the Rabban of the Sanhedrin?”

  “I am.”

  “I have heard of you.” She glanced nervously over her shoulder. “He must not know we have spoken.”

  “Who must not know, the boy or the Prefect?”

  “Cassia Drusus, who else?”

  “My apologies, madam, but forgive me, you
are—”

  “I am Claudia Procula, wife to Pontius Pilate. Get up, boy. Rabban Gamaliel, I must speak with you but please, I…”

  The boy stood but kept his eyes averted. Gamaliel shuffled his feet. “What is it you wish to tell me?”

  This exchange made him uncomfortable. That he had been coerced into entering a pagan building was bad enough, but to speak to a pagan woman as well? He would have to think about all the transgressions now marked against his name when he spent time in his mikvah later that evening. This day seemed to be sliding downward at an ever-increasing pace. And it was still only the fifth hour.

  “You must help him, rabbi. I have had a vision.”

  “A vision?” Gamaliel was no stranger to visionaries. In his capacity of Rabban he’d had to judge the veracity of many of them. Most were blatant frauds. One or two seemed to be connected somehow with the spiritual world, but he did not know how or why. At one time or another he had consigned to be punished or exiled nearly all purveyors of omens. Most had then recanted and taken up less parlous lines of thievery. A few remained whose insights still nagged at him. The King’s companion, Menahem, for example, who’d shared his doomsday predictions of the Nation’s certain demise a few years ago and had thereby ruined the better part of an afternoon.

  “I saw who murdered Aurelius.”

  “You saw the murderer? Why did you not tell it to that person, what’s his name, Cassia Drusus? Then I would not be—”

  “I only saw him in the vision, Holy Sir. Cassia does not concern himself with visions. He is—”

  “A pragmatist. Aren’t you all? Very well then, tell me who killed your husband’s rival? Have I got that right—his rival?”

  “Rival? I suppose so. The murderer was a Tribunus cohortis.”

  “A Tribune? I was not aware one such existed in Judea at the moment, aside from your husband, and you are not accusing him, surely. Is this Tribune a part of the mission that recently arrived?”