Holy Smoke Page 3

Gamaliel greeted the old man. “Ha Shem, Jacob ben Aschi,”

  “Is that you, Rabban? Greetings in the Name to you, too. You are here about the scandal, yes?”

  Gamaliel noticed the old man’s empty cup. He retrieved a flask from a table covered with vessels of various sizes and shapes and filled it. He took Jacobs’ hand and guided it to the cup. Jacob smiled his thanks. Gamaliel sat opposite the old man and cleared his throat so that he could be located and the old man could fix his milky eyes in his general direction.

  “You speak of the dead man in the Holy of Holies, Jacob, that scandal? Well, yes and no. Yes, if you have something to tell me that will shed light on who the wretch was or why he did what he did.”

  “I am sorry, but I only know what I hear. I hope our high priest will puzzle out the mystery. So what else brings you here?”

  “Besides wishing to see my old friend? I have a question for you. I am told that all the kohanim believe that we now attach a cord to the ankle of the high priest whenever he enters the Presence. Is that so?”

  “Ah, these rumors. You are responsible for them, you know. It is your fault. All that talk last year about the risk we take with Elohim because of the possible corruption in Aaron’s line or in the high priest’s mind. It is your doing. You sit with the Sanhedrin and discuss this possibility and make a decision to suggest—suggest, mind you—that Caiaphas should adopt the practice, and by the time that debate found its way outside the Sanhedrin’s walls, it became a policy in place.”

  “So, all, or nearly all, of the active priests believe it is the practice. Is that correct?”

  “I think so. It can do no harm, you know, but oy, such a babbling. You and the remainder of the Sanhedrin should learn to be more discreet.”

  A gust of wind wafted a tendril of smoke at them. The aroma of burning flesh assaulted their noses.

  “Ah, they have finally begun. If I am not mistaken, it is bulls, now,” Jacob nodded his approval.

  “So it seems. You would know.”

  “It is holy smoke, Rabban. It comes from the sacrifices.”

  “Yes, of course. And you can tell just from the aroma?” Jacob grinned and nodded. “So, Jacob, as to the Sanhedrin’s membership, most of us are, as you say, discreet, but one or two cannot stop their gossiping. For some people, to be important means to be in possession of special knowledge. But, unless others know you possess it, they will never know how important you are. The temptation to let slip bits and pieces of information, no matter how trivial, is irresistible to some of my colleagues. They drop a hint here, a scrap there. Listeners are suitably impressed and the status of our important person is secured in their eyes—or ears to be precise.”

  Jacob shook his head. “It has always been thus. Well, you have your answer, and now so does everyone who might have wished to know about the practice. The fact that it has not been implemented and probably never will be makes no difference. It has found its way in the culture, you could say, and will surface in one form or another for as long as people speak of the Temple.”

  “So, the conclusion we can draw is that anyone or everyone might know about the practice?”

  “I am telling you only what I surmise, Rabban. I am at an age when I can confess that I don’t know anything for a certainty. So, will our high priest find out the who and the why?”

  “I suspect not, Jacob. He is content with the notion that a madman dashed into the room and was struck down for his foolhardiness. It will serve as an object lesson for the Nation. And unless I miss my guess, now he will never allow the cord to be attached to his ankle, so that when he emerges unscathed from the Presence on the Day of Atonement, his position and standing with the Lord will be confirmed in everyone’s eyes.”

  “You are not suggesting he arranged this to happen with that in mind?”

  “Jacob, you know our Caiaphas better than anyone serving in the Temple. Do you think he would or could do such a thing?”

  “Do not tempt me, Gamaliel. What he would or could do is not a sufficient reason to prompt an accusation. You can answer that question as easily as I.”

  “I believe he is capable, but not bold enough to do it. Furthermore, if I know anything about Caiaphas, it is that he sincerely believes he is the direct descendent of Aaron and has a duty to maintain and, if necessary, to cleanse any heresy, blasphemy, or breach of the Law that crops up during his time in office. He is comfortable with his relative purity before the Lord and would never dare to desecrate the Temple.”

  “There is your answer then. That is, it is your answer so long as you believe those bold words. What your answer will be if you come to doubt them later is another thing.”

  “There is one other thing about the high priest that disturbs.”

  “Just one? I hear the two of you are at odds over many things.”

  “In the case of the dead man in the Temple, then. Our high priest is not angry. He should be outraged at the very thought of a desecration of such magnitude—frothing at the mouth.”

  “But he is not?”

  “He is in shock, I think. Perhaps in a day or two he will react to the enormity of the defilement and actually do something, but as yet, nothing.”

  “It is not a subject I am qualified to discuss, although I feel as you do, surely, Rabban.”

  “Yes, well, here is another question for you and then I must go. How is the Temple guarded at night? Would it even be possible for someone to enter the Holy Place without being seen and do such a thing? Remember, he had a cord tied to his ankle and that presupposes—”

  “He wasn’t alone. Yes, of course. Could someone or several people enter the place unseen and unnoticed and do this thing? I do not know how. At night, the guards are not as closely placed as they are during the day. They may not even be permanently placed at the Beautiful Gate, but move about. No one in their right mind would dream of assaulting the place, day or night. It would mean certain death.”

  “But a madman?”

  “Ah yes, possibly a crazy person, as the high priest prefers, could do it, but I don’t think so without being seen. He might make a dash for the entrance and penetrate the Holy of Holies before a guard could stop him, but then we would all know immediately, wouldn’t we? The deed would have been reported last night, not this morning.”

  “Carrying in an already dead man?”

  “Couldn’t happen.”

  “Not possible?”

  Jacob scratched his beard and considered. “Only if a guard—no, make that several guards— were bribed to look the other way.”

  “Do you think they would dare?”

  “They would if two conditions were met. The bribe must be large enough to tide the guard over in the event he was found out and dismissed. And then, assuming he went along with the plan, even the most disreputable guard must not know the true purpose of the thing.”

  “Pardon?”

  “However corrupt a man might be, he will not willingly give up his life just for money. But if he were led to believe only a prank was in play, he might turn a blind eye and a deaf ear. He would have to be both bribed and deceived.”

  “And a little stupid.”

  “That, too, yes.”

  “As I expected, Jacob ben Aschi, you may no longer see the things on earth, but you see into the mind of man with great clarity. Thank you. I must go.”

  Chapter VI

  Before they were deployed, the Temple’s guard assembled near the Pinnacle at the Mount’s southwest corner. A room to one side provided space for the captain of the guards. Gamaliel had to backtrack to call on the captain, but he felt he had needed to hear what Jacob had to say before he tackled the men tasked to secure the Temple, the mount on which it stood, and the people who served in it. The day shift had been in place for several hours by the time Gamaliel arrived. He knew the captain on
ly as Yehudah. Normally he would have known his patronymic as well, but it had been some time since he’d been required to look into security at the Temple. He believed that job fell more appropriately in someone else’s area, or at least to someone with an interest in such things.

  “Greetings, Yehudah. You are well?”

  “It is the rabban, is it not? I am very well, Excellency. Is there something I can do for you?”

  “You know of this business in the Temple, of course. Everyone does by now. I am curious how such a thing could have happened without one of your guards witnessing some part of it.” The captain shuffled his feet and studied the rough paving stones beneath them, but said nothing. “Captain, can you help me here?”

  “The person who should answer that question is Zach. Zach ben Azar’el commands the night company. He would know. All I can tell you is he said nothing to me when the guard changed at the first hour. I believe if he had seen or heard anything, he would have reported it.”

  “Yes, no doubt he would.” Gamaliel paused and studied the Pinnacle for some moments while he thought how best to ask his next question.

  “You are wondering how to ask me if any of my men might have been bribed last night, yes?”

  “I hate to ask it, but I must. Is this a thing that could happen? It is important, you know. The Holy of Holies…”

  Yehudah let his eyes drop to the pavement once more. “A bribe, like anything else, is always a possibility. We live in an uncertain world, Excellency. Money is scarce.” He glanced in the direction of the Temple. The late morning sun’s rays glinted off the gold finials and fretwork that adorned its top, and the alabaster panels set on the walls reflected the light like beacons. “Not so much for our priests. They can finish this,” he waved his arm toward the Temple, “in gold and alabaster. No expense spared for that, but for the poor—”

  “I think you have said enough, Captain.” Gamaliel feared the guard’s frustration would get the better of him and he would say something that would not be permitted, something that could cost him his position.

  “It’s just that…I am sorry, Rabban. It is for Ha Shem, I know.”

  “Captain, I understand how you feel, but remember we are on this earth for the blink of an eye. Ha Shem is forever. When we are gone, He remains. It is for Him we build this temple, not for ourselves.”

  “Sir, do you truly believe King Herod—”

  “Enough, Yehudah, enough.” The captain’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click. “When will Zach and the night cohort report?”

  “They will start straggling in from the eleventh hour until sunset. You will be able to speak to them then.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I will bid you good day. And Captain…it is for Ha Shem.”

  Gamaliel turned on his heel and made for the gate at the north end of the mount. It would be a long walk. Herod had made sure the mount that would lift this temple up so that it could be seen for miles around was larger than any other like it in the known world. Gamaliel did not have a ready answer to those who saw the Temple’s opulence as a travesty when paired to those who daily struggled to put bread on their tables. He’d given Yehudah the stock answer, one he felt he could justify, but he believed it had fallen on deaf ears, and there were days when the plight of the poor caused him to question the Temple party’s insistence that the construction continue. These last adornments added nothing to the building’s utility. Would the Sanhedrin do anything to rein in the Temple Party’s extravagance? Would they? Could they? He doubted he’d ever know.

  ***

  The sun stood near its zenith, not quite the sixth hour. It had taken Gamaliel nearly two hours to seek out Jacob, question him, traipse across to the Pinnacle to speak with Yehudah, and then reach the Sheep Gate at the city’s northern extreme. It would be exactly at the sixth hour when he arrived at Loukas’ gate.

  Since he had first made the healer’s acquaintance, he made it a practice to visit him through the side gate that opened onto the back court. At first he did so because of his mistaken notion that Loukas was not of the Faith, and he preferred not to enter an infidel’s house. Later, when Loukas had disabused him of that notion, the habit was too firmly entrenched to change, and so it was still to be through the gate, not door, he would enter Loukas’ premises.

  Loukas met him as he entered. Another man stood to one side. His dress suggested he might have traveled from the north and east.

  “Greetings, Rabban. I expected you hours ago. You were detained? Not by the high priest, I hope.”

  “I was delayed, but not by his eminence. I felt the need to visit the captain of the guard and also Jacob ben Aschi.”

  “I do not know Jacob ben Aschi. Is he someone who has connections that can shed some light on our mysterious death?”

  “Connections? No. He is a former kohen and blind, but he hears things and has the gift of the aged.”

  “And that is?”

  “Perspective.” Gamaliel turned to the stranger. “Forgive me if I sound rude, sir, but my position constrains me. To whom do I speak?”

  The man bowed slightly and smiled. “I fully understand. You are the Rabban of the Sanhedrin, Loukas tells me, and consorting with those not of your faith can cause some discomfort if certain proprieties are not kept. It is the same with me and mine. So, you see we have the same conundrum with which to wrestle.”

  “Your…?” It had never occurred to Gamaliel that practitioners of other faiths might see him as the infidel and have scruples about being in his presence. It was a novel thought and one he would have to mull over at his leisure, if that time ever came. “I see. Well, you know me, but I do not know you.”

  “Then you must be told. Loukas, your manners are appalling. I am Ali bin Selah. Loukas and I share a mutual interest in the healing arts. Whenever I visit your handsome city, we come together and discuss the things we know or have discovered since our last meeting. Now I must be off. I am joining a caravan travelling down to Jericho and thence up the Jordan and beyond. It has been a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Rabban Gamaliel.”

  With that, the man slipped through the gate with a swirl of silk and sun-bleached linen and was gone.

  “Loukas, you must tell me what that was all about.”

  “It is simple enough. It is as he said. Assyrians possess skills we don’t. I know Asclepius, Hippocrates, and their teachings, which he does not. He has knowledge of a vast pharmacopeia and mathematics, which I do not, and so on.”

  “Assyrian, Loukas? That empire expired years ago. You mean Parthian, don’t you?”

  “Some of the people who trace their lineage back to that time refuse to accept any other designation. They are Assyrian no matter where they live, you see.”

  “Really?”

  “Consider the following. Suppose the city were destroyed and the Nation scattered—”

  “That can never happen. As difficult as it is to live under Roman rule, no one but a madman would challenge them and even if they were that foolish, the ruckus would be over in days, a handful of survivors punished, and life would go on. It is not in the Lord’s plan to destroy his city.”

  “It has happened before.”

  “Because we earned the Lord’s wrath. That is no longer possible. We have the written Law now.”

  “For your sake I hope you are right, but you miss my point. Again I ask you to assume the impossible and see where it takes you. Were that to happen and you found yourself exiled to Memphis or Alexandria, would you call yourself an Egyptian or an Israelite?”

  “I see—Israelite. What my descendents might call themselves I do not know, but I believe that if that were to happen and we were all scattered again, it would be only a matter of time before we returned and reestablished the Nation. It would be the wish of Ha Shem that we live in the land he gave us.” Gamaliel frowned, “Sor
ry, you were saying?”

  “Only that Ali and I share professional secrets. Also, he teaches me about his culture. I tell him what I know of ours. It is very broadening, Rabban, you should try it.”

  “Indeed? Why?”

  “Never mind. You are an unreconstructed rabbi from Jerusalem. The effort would be wasted on you. Come sit in the shade, drink some wine, and tell me of your interviews with the man Jacob and the guard and I will tell you what I have discovered about our corpse.”

  “Good. Stick with the problem at hand. I must say, however, that your friend intrigues me.”

  “How so?”

  “I can’t say exactly but…Some wine and to work.”

  Chapter VII

  Gamaliel sat on the bench which Loukas had previously moved into the shade. “I did not see your servant, Draco. Is he not well?”

  “You know the story of poor Draco, how I pulled him from the gutter and of his terrible disease. He has had a turn for the worse. I’m afraid he will not live to see Passover. My hope is that he does not suffer much. The disease has ravaged all of his body. His pain, in spite of the medications I gave him, is terrible.”

  “Medications you gave. You no longer offer him relief?”

  “No, I still do. I am trying a new one that Ali, my visitor, brought to me. It seems to have worked a small miracle. At least Draco is sleeping quietly for a change—something he has not done for days.”

  “And what is this new potion you have from your Assyrian friend—or is he Parthian?”

  “I cannot say. He tells me it is the extract made from the sap of poppy flowers. But I have tried that before with only limited success, so this must be something new.”

  “Well, as long as it works.”

  “Indeed. It is a palliative only, Rabban, but it works. In the end it will only make his passing easier. And for him a quick death would be a blessing.”

  “A blessing certainly, but not to be wished for, Loukas. You are a healer. Doesn’t your code call for you to do all in your power to preserve life?”