The Last Disciple (35 page)

Now, too, she didn’t want the baby to be an impediment to any romance she would entice Vitas to consider. Most men did not want a woman who brought with her the baggage of a previous marriage.

Then, as the baby’s cries grew louder, a thought popped into her head that could be nothing short of inspiration. “The baby of one of the dead servants,” she said.

Yes, that was it! Not her baby but one that belonged to a servant. She’d been so focused on creating the story about Maglorius and the murder of her husband, anticipating questions and ensuring it would stand up against any doubts, she’d not given the baby’s situation the thought it needed. But this story worked too! For after yesterday afternoon’s attack of the mansion by Florus’s soldiers, she had ample choice of dead servant girls unable to deny motherhood.

“I don’t know what to do,” she continued. “I hold it but it just keeps crying. What will happen to the child now?”

“And your children,” Vitas said. “What of them? Valeria and Quintus.”

“Not my children,” she said quickly. “Stepchildren. They belong to Bellator and his previous wife.”

She wasn’t going to explain that those children, like the baby boy, carried only Bellator’s name not his blood. They had been fathered by someone else, for as she well knew, Bellator had been incapable of siring children.

And she certainly wasn’t going to explain her plans to ensure that Quintus did not survive the next week in Jerusalem. It was a blessing, in a way, that the boy had fled believing his hero Maglorius to be a murderer. If Quintus returned, she would find a way to take care of him. And the same for Valeria, the little witch, if she’d actually survived the attack in the marketplace.

“Where is Maglorius now?” Vitas asked.

Couldn’t this man see what was in front of him? A beautiful, impassioned woman.

“Maglorius,” she almost snapped. “Hopefully the soldiers killed him after he fled here. If not, maybe he died somewhere in the city during the night.”

Vitas stared past Alypia. Again, that look of concern for the crying baby.

“What can I do?” she said, wanting the man’s full attention. “I’m now a widow. This city is full of danger. You can’t leave me alone here.”

“Florus will be—”

“Florus? He undoubtedly sent his soldiers here. He’s hated Bellator since our arrival.”

“As I was about to say,” Vitas said calmly, “Florus will be no protection. I’ve been a guest at the royal palace. I was safe there last night. I have no doubt you will be welcome there too.”

That explained it, Alypia thought with a flash of jealousy. Queen Bernice was notorious for being a man-eater. And the attentions of a Roman of the status that Vitas held would be of great value to her. That explained the lack of attention that Vitas was giving Alypia at this moment. He undoubtedly was more than a guest at the royal palace.

“I don’t even trust that,” she said. Alypia had no intention of going into the palace and competing with Bernice there. “Who knows if Florus might send spies into the palace to get to me?” She drew herself up. “All I need is a way to leave the city,” she said, wanting Vitas to insist on staying with her.

His reply was not what she’d expected.

“I don’t think the danger is as grave as you might believe. Bernice is urging the high priest to take the necessary steps to keep Florus happy. And Maglorius—”

“You must protect me from him. Have him arrested. Immediately crucified.”

Vitas hesitated for a moment, then finally nodded. “Yes, I will take care of him.”

The Fifth Hour

“Be prepared for the worst,” Maglorius told Sophia when they reached the upper city. One of the queen’s servants had found him for her, and she was very grateful for it. “Florus sent his soldiers this far too. And the Bellator household did not escape.”

Be prepared for the worst.

It did not take much for Sophia to imagine the sights and sounds of soldiers here in the upper city. The bricked streets were wider than the ones leading from the market area to the poor parts of the lower city; the walls that hid the households from the streets much higher and thicker. Still, the clanging of swords, the screams of the victims, and the shouts of pursuit would have rung along these streets no differently than the horrors of what she’d heard the day before.

“You were here then before . . .” Sophia didn’t have to finish her sentence. In the short time they had walked together from the royal palace to this point, Maglorius had explained that he’d spent the night looking for Quintus. But this was only after Sophia had reassured him that Valeria was still waiting for him beneath the city where he had directed them to safety during the height of the slaughter.

“I was there.” Maglorius had a heaviness in his voice, as if holding an untold story. “Too late to do much except comfort the dying.”

Directly ahead of them was an archway that led to the outer courtyard of the Bellator household. The iron bars were broken and twisted, evidence of the recent violent attack of soldiers.

“And the mistress of the household,” Sophia said. “Alypia. She was not hurt.”

For a moment, Maglorius looked away. As if hiding something. “I would expect you to find her there,” he finally answered. “And, of course, Vitas, as we were told at the palace.”

“Surely she will want to hear about Quintus. Yet you will not enter with me. Vitas will want to see you too.”

“No.” Maglorius spoke without hesitation. “I need to keep searching for Quintus. You deliver the news.”

“Where will we find you later?” Sophia asked.

“I will find you,” he answered.

“Maglorius, you are troubled.”

“Alypia will have with her a baby boy,” he said. “His name is Sabinus. Please ensure that the baby is doing well. I’m afraid that Alypia’s maternal instincts aren’t strong. Without servants to help her with him . . .” Maglorius let out a deep breath. “At any rate, that is the one favor I would ask of you. Look after Sabinus. Even volunteer to stay with Alypia until she can find another servant to help with the boy.”

“Come in with me,” Sophia invited gently.

“Make me that promise. Please.”

“I do. Come in with me.”

“I cannot,” he said. “Soon enough you’ll find out why. And when you do, remember you have made the promise.”

“If I will find out soon enough, why not tell me yourself?” Sophia asked.

“Because then truthfully you cannot be found guilty of helping a fugitive. My crime would be your crime.”

“Crime?”

“Go,” Maglorius said gently. “Find Vitas. Watch over the baby.”

Sophia had one last question. But she could guess the answer. “Sabinus is your son?”

Maglorius nodded. “My son. Until you helped me find my faith, he was my only reason to live.” With that, he turned and hurried down the street toward the lower city.

Sophia entered the courtyard. She’d been promised that Vitas was here, waiting for her.

She called his name.

The only reply was the wailing of a baby.

“Last night,” Queen Bernice said to Vitas, “when I asked, you explained that you wanted to be here without official recognition but were reluctant to tell me why.”

A messenger had found Vitas at the Bellator household and delivered an urgent request for him to return to the palace. Upon his arrival he’d immediately been delivered to Bernice at one of the upper-palace courtyards.

Vitas did not want to be here. He wanted to be back in the city looking for Sophia. He’d expected to find her at the Bellator household with Maglorius. Instead, Alypia had made her accusations with no mention of Sophia. Vitas could not believe Maglorius had murdered Bellator. But if he had returned to the Bellator household in the afternoon, Sophia had not been with him. Where was she?

“And last night,” Vitas answered, impatient for Bernice to get to the point, “when I asked, you agreed that Ben-Aryeh was obligated to you but were equally reluctant to go into details.”

“You know his son,” she said without hesitation. “Or you certainly know of him. A Jew named Chayim.”

It took Vitas several moments to place the name. “Chayim. The Jew residing in the imperial palace in Rome?”

Bernice nodded.

Curiosity was enough to temporarily distract Vitas from his thoughts about Sophia and Maglorius. “I thought he was a member of the Herod family.”

“Now you understand my reluctance to tell you about him. Especially because of your closeness to Nero. Telling you this exposes my deceit. I misrepresented his lineage when I sent him to Rome.”

“But that raises other questions.”

“Like, for example, why Chayim was offered as a hostage when he isn’t of Herodian descent?”

“That would be my first question,” Vitas said. It was common enough. Kings of different countries sent Nero their sons, ensuring that they would not revolt. “And my second would be why did Ben-Aryeh agree to it?”

“You spend enough time in the imperial palace. Surely you know or at least have heard a thing or two about Chayim.”

Vitas snorted. “If Chayim is the son of Ben-Aryeh, that is like saying the sun gave birth to the night.”

“So Chayim hasn’t changed.”

“Was he a womanizer and devout disciple of wine and parties here in Jerusalem?” Vitas responded.

Bernice nodded, smiling faintly. “You can imagine how much difficulty that presented to Ben-Aryeh.”

“That, then, is the answer to my second question. Ben-Aryeh must have found it very convenient to see Chayim go.”

“Yes,” Bernice said. “Which is also the answer to your first question. Because it was convenient for Chayim to go, it put Ben-Aryeh in debt to me. Where I wanted him.” She hesitated. “There’s more.”

“Ben-Aryeh is one of the most powerful men of the temple,” Vitas said, “and it would never hurt you to have a way to control that power.”

“You understand quickly.”

“I deal in the politics of the imperial palace.”

“Of course, which is why you want your presence here unknown to Florus?”

Vitas merely smiled. This question was not why she’d sent a messenger for him.

“Florus is a dangerous man,” she continued. “You know that too.”

“Yesterday’s events are enough proof of that.” Thousands killed. It was doubly important now that Florus not discover the presence of Vitas in Jerusalem. Vitas grimly looked forward to delivering a report of his atrocities to Nero, knowing that whatever version Florus gave Rome would immediately be exposed as a lie.

“Would you go to Florus directly if you knew it might save countless lives today?” Queen Bernice asked.

“What do you know?” Vitas asked sharply.

“Despite assurances he might give to the temple authorities, he intends to instigate another riot.”

Vitas rubbed his face. Would Florus listen to warnings about Nero’s wrath, or would Florus take the opportunity to kill Vitas for the silence it would ensure?

“What I say or don’t say will not make a difference to Florus,” Vitas finally said. “If I make it back to Rome, however, I can ensure that he loses his procuracy.”

“I feared you might say that.”

“Is my assessment wrong?”

“Probably not. But I don’t know where else to turn.”

“What about Ben-Aryeh? You reached me by messenger. Surely you can find him and use your leverage to make him speak to Florus.”

“It’s too late,” Bernice said. “He’s already with the delegation in front of Florus.”

“I understand you were successful in persuading your people to return to their homes this morning.” Florus spoke from a large chair, looking down on the delegation of priests, Ben-Aryeh among them.

The room reeked of pomp. Florus wore his robes of power and was surrounded by soldiers. The priests wore their temple robes, and stood in a group of about two dozen, all of them men of greatest wealth and influence in the city.

“We were,” Ananias replied. As high priest, he was the designated spokesman.

Ben-Aryeh, like Ananias and all the other Jews, was well aware that a single political misstep among these Jews of influence would result in a delegation approaching Agrippa to relieve Ananias of the high priest’s position.

“Are you satisfied that there will be no talk of further riots in protest of how Rome governs the Jews?” Florus asked. It appeared that he was deliberately allowing a smile to play across his face, as if he were taunting Ananias into arguing that the riots would not have occurred except for the actions taken by Florus.