The Wolf and the Lamb Read online

  “Times may have, the Lord has not.”

  “The Lord, Adonai, El, Ha Shem. Why do you say it that way? Go ahead and speak the Name. You will not be struck down by lightning. This God person, I do not think even He cares about the Temple party’s idea of Law.”

  “Yakob, be still. You must be careful how you speak.”

  “In Rome and in the other great cities of the Empire, Jews are not afraid to adapt, Sarai. You know that. And so far, not one of them has been struck down by God for lack of respect. You see? No angry roar from the heavens, no lightning bolts strike to tell them their God is unhappy. Do you think that maybe God is not as concerned with all this bowing and scraping as the Pharisees would have you believe?”

  “This is Jerusalem and not any of those other places. We are in the Holy Land, the land given to us by the Name. In this place He is present and, unlike those other cities, He does not compete with pagan gods. Here He is Lord. He watches and listens. You survived twenty years as a Roman legionnaire. It would be a great tragedy if you come here only to die a blasphemer.”

  “Nonsense.” Sarai’s eyes filled at his scolding. “Oh, very well. For you, I will try to be discreet. But you should know there are many Jews like me who are coming together in this your Promised Land to do something about the Roman plague.”

  “Not my Promised Land—ours—our Promised Land. Please, I beg you, do not join with those people, those Zealots. Do not even speak of them. You, of all people, know that there is no force anywhere in the world that can defeat Rome. You served as a soldier. You know that. Those men are fools if they think they can do something where others, better equipped and better trained, cannot. I ask you as a soldier, what sort of army would be needed to defeat the legionnaires stationed here, and if you could raise it, how much bigger must it grow to when the legions sent from Rome arrive? Zealots with their knives and their boasting, what will they accomplish beyond shedding more blood? So, a Sicarii kills a tax-gatherer, and what then? Does your hated Roman shake in his boots, drop his spear and run? You know he does not.”

  “Every movement must start somewhere.”

  “Movement? What movement? You mean like Yehudah of the Galilee and his movement? His foolish attack on the Roman garrison ended in crucified men lining both sides of the road from Sephoris to Nazareth, rape and murder of women and children, and a city burned to the ground. All this because one old man thought there had to be a start? It was the mouse annoying the lion. That was not a start, that was a disaster. No, these new saviors of the Nation can only bring more pain and sorrow to the Lord’s house. We have a good situation here, Yakob. Let us enjoy it. Leave war and plotting to younger, more foolish men.”

  Yakob scowled, mumbled something she did not understand, and left the room.

  ***

  Pilate waved his wife to a chair and offered her his cup.

  “I did not come here to drink, husband. You have seen the Jew?”

  Pilate’s eyebrow climbed a short distance up his forehead. “You know I did, Procula. You were lurking in the hallway as he left, I believe.”

  “Yes. Well, good. I told him what I saw.”

  Rufus who had been listening with half an ear sat up. “You saw Aurelius killed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Pilate, we have no need for the Jew. Your esteemed wife can testify and—”

  “She cannot.”

  “Cannot? But why? If she saw the man murdered and also who did it, why would she not speak to Cassia and tell him the real killer’s name, tell him you are innocent?”

  “It is not that easy.”

  “They would only laugh at me,” Procula said.

  “Laugh at you, but why?”

  “It was a vision, Rufus. Procula came to me the day before and said she had seen Aurelius murdered and that I should not respond to a summons to the basement if one were presented.”

  “The day before? I don’t understand.”

  “My wife has visions about impending events, Rufus. She sometimes sees things that will happen before they happen. She ‘saw’ the murder.”

  Procula shook her head and drained the Prefect’s cup. “But you went down into the cellars anyway.”

  “You are not always right, as you know, and anyway, I forgot about the vision. I only remembered it when Cassia arrested me. Too late, alas.”

  Rufus slumped back on his stool. “Is there anything else I should know of this story which becomes increasingly bizarre by the hour?”

  “Only this. In the past, when Procula urged me to employ services from an unlikely source, it has always worked to my advantage. Well, nearly always. Since, as we have just discussed, I have no other real alternatives, I called for the Rabban. So, now you know the secret of my success.”

  “I am stunned. With respect, honored lady, but you say your vision identified the murderer and then you had a second, ah…premonition that this Jewish official should be called to solve the Prefect’s problem?”

  “That is near enough, yes.”

  Rufus stood and walked toward the door. “It is time for me to throw in with Cassia. You are doomed, Pilate, and I wish to survive.”

  He closed the door behind him.

  “Will he join Cassia, husband?”

  “No. Rufus is not the keenest arrow in the sheaf, but he is a friend and will not betray me. That is why he will never rise in the Emperor’s service.”

  “Never?”

  “If you are unwilling to betray a friend, you will not stay long in any position of importance in the Empire created for us by Tiberius.”

  “Did you betray your friends, husband?”

  “I am the Prefect.”

  Chapter IX

  Loukas stared at his friend. Frustrated would not even come close to describing his expression. He had walked some miles with Gamaliel, shared danger and a few triumphs, but this new thing? No good could emerge from this morass.

  “Enough, Gamaliel. If you insist on ignoring the likelihood that you are being duped by the Prefect, at least acknowledge the problem you face. It is not the difficulty you will encounter dealing with a hostile Roman officialdom, by the way.”

  Gamaliel shifted on the bench to gain more shade from an overhanging tree limb and sipped his wine. “Remind me. What would that would be?”

  Loukas gazed heavenward and clenched his fists in frustration. “Sometimes you can be so exasperating. You said it yourself. If you throw in with the Prefect, you will be ruined. You will lose your position, you might be stoned to death, and most certainly you will become the latest target for these ‘Dagger Men.’ You must decline the Prefect’s demand.”

  “Common sense and caution say I must, but I cannot and I need your help.”

  Loukas sat down. “Me? Sorry, but unlike you, I am not suicidal. I cannot conceive of any circumstance that would allow me to set foot inside that wasp’s nest. Not even to help you. You want to clear a man from a charge of murder, a man the entire world agrees would be better off dead.”

  “Not all the world, surely.”

  “Your world, our world then. No, I will not do it. You are on your own.”

  “Then you must tell me what to look for in a corpse.”

  “A corpse? You’re not serious. You may not touch a dead body much less study it. Do you honestly think you are capable of stripping a body, inspecting its various orifices—prod here and poke there? Rabban, have you gone mad?”

  “You leave me no other choice, Loukas.”

  “I see what you are doing. You will not get away with this. This is extortion and I will not yield. If you insist on putting yourself in that position, it is on your head.”

  “Yes, yes, I understand. So, tell me what I must do. Pilate will arrange for the dead man to be available, and since you will not help me, I must proceed on my own. So, where do I start? Do I have to cut him open? Isn’t that a violation of the law, Roman and Hebrew? I should start with his hands, right? I must look at his hands, nails and so on for…what exac
tly do I look for?”

  “You are impossible. Very well, I will look at your dead man, but that is all. I will look, report, and depart.”

  “Thank you.”

  Loukas stood and started for the courtyard gate. “Shall we go to the Prefect now?”

  “Now? Oh, no, not now. No, we will let the Prefect stew for a bit. It will do him good. He is far too confident he has caught me in his net. Let him wait and wonder. He has things to do and to contemplate in the meantime. No, you and I will take a walk about the city and listen. The murder in the Fortress will be common knowledge by now. We should move about in the crowds, stop at our usual places of refreshment and listen to what people are saying or gossiping about. Who knows? The solution may not reside in the Fortress at all.”

  ***

  Two hours mingling with the crowds, both the city’s new arrivals and its permanent residents, and chatting with random passersby yielded an array of misinformation and the general sense that if the Prefect were to be deposed, no one would care. Rejoice, certainly, but not care. The tenor of the remarks and the evident glee over the idea that Pilate might soon depart forever convinced Loukas that Gamaliel should drop the idea of doing the Prefect’s bidding.

  “You see how it is, Rabban. Anyone who helps that despicable man will have the hate transferred to him. Don’t you understand? You cannot win this one.”

  “I understand, my Physician, and I am listening, I promise. But a larger problem arises if I do not.”

  “Larger? How so?”

  “Tell me, what is it we most hate about these people from across the Middle Sea? Is it their brutality? Perhaps a little, yes, but cast your mind back through our history and ask yourself this: Are they worse than the Greeks when the Great Alexander swept through here, or the Assyrians, the Babylonians? What shall we say of the Amelekites or King Saul’s and David’s Philistines? If you contemplate the sweep of our history, as much as it pains me to say so, by comparison Rome is a relatively benign oppressor. They allow the Sanhedrin to continue to govern. Admittedly this is done with severe limitations but not as onerous as they might be. The Temple still stands. Look, even now the smoke from the altar rises to heaven. It has not been looted or desecrated as it has been in the past. The Romans employ local people in any number of ways, not just to collect taxes, but as guards, workers, servants, and so on. They have enslaved people to a lesser degree than their predecessors. Consider Babylon and the Exile. Indeed, one could say they have bolstered the economy. Look to the north. Did you know that one third of all the salt fish supplied to their legions comes from the Sea of Galilee? We prosper in spite of the burdens they place on us.”

  “My friend, I am your greatest admirer, but just now you sound like one of their poets or historians. They are dreadful people and you know it.”

  “I do. I am only stating the obvious. We could be worse off.”

  “Bah.”

  “No, listen. To the east lie lands and a people who, if the rumors are even marginally correct, constitute a sleeping giant needing only a leader, enough greed, and the will to sweep through here like a plague of locusts. Look to the north. Beyond the sea that borders Cappadocia is a race of bearded men, the Rus, whose ferocity is legend. But, because the Romans are here, they are not. Suppose we were able to somehow persuade our current oppressors to leave, are you prepared for the consequences? Can we mount an army sufficient to resist the next Nation who covets our land or the next after that? Where will it end, Loukas?”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Too often we see only what is in front of our eyes, never what lies beyond. Those who would pillage and plunder are always with us and life is temporary. Only Ha Shem is forever. The virtues embedded in the Law, are forever. His promises are forever. Unless we would become pale copies of our conquerors, we will practice those virtues. Leave corruption and disregard for humanity to those who would rape and pillage the world. If we wish to survive and see our future, we must concentrate on the business of keeping the Law and all its requirements. If Pilate is innocent of this crime, I must prove it. If he is not, I must bring him down. Justice, Loukas, justice. Now, no more of this debate. I have precious little time to do this thankless job and two of those days are Shabbat. We have work to do.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we. Now let us see what this very dead Aurelius Decimus can tell us.”

  ***

  Rufus had returned to what Pilate referred to as his prison.

  “Back so soon? Please don’t tell me you were unsuccessful in your attempt to join the forces led by Cassia. Surely not.”

  “You mock me.”

  “I am sorry. You are correct, I mock you. Rufus, you are a good man—too good for your own good, I might add. Cassia will never believe you devious enough to take into his confidence. Deviousness knows deviousness, and it is not part of your nature.”

  “I am both flattered and annoyed, Pilate. You seem to have that effect on most of the people around you, I believe.”

  Pilate shrugged and smiled. “Although it seems it’s not working well at the moment.”

  “Where’s your genius Hebrew? Shouldn’t he be here sorting out the strands of your predicament by now? Has he had second thoughts and deserted you?”

  “He is punishing me, if you must know. I forced him into helping me. He would rather not, given a choice, so he is making me sit like a naughty schoolboy. He hopes I will think of something helpful and, failing that, feel rueful. So far, I have done neither.”

  “He wants to have someone view the body of Aurelius. Where is Aurelius?”

  “He is laid out on a slab one level down and is guarded by one of my legionnaires, so I have access to him if needed. Cassia thought that assigning my people to the less dignified tasks in the fort would add to my overall humiliation. Actually, it will help me. We have, if we need it, access to everything and every place necessary to investigate my problem.”

  “Except the principals themselves.”

  “Well, yes that is true. Cassia and his accomplices will not readily acquiesce to requests for an audience and to be questioned, but there is a way around that too. In fact, that is where you come in.”

  “Me? I thought you only needed me for—”

  “Patience, my friend…Ah, I believe our sleuth has arrived. Enter, Rabban.”

  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.