The Wolf and the Lamb (12 page)

YOM SHENI

Chapter XXIII

Loukas met Gamaliel at the head of the street that led down to the hippodrome, the Circus, the Romans would call it. He carried a sack and appeared annoyed.

“You are out of sorts, Physician. Is there a problem?”

“And you look like you could use another three hours of sleep. Yes, there is a problem. As you requested, although I do not remember you actually asking in the usual sense. You said ‘Loukas will prepare a sop,’ or something like that. You never said, ‘Loukas, my esteemed friend, will you be so kind as to make me something that will render even the fiercest chariot horse tame as a lamb?’ As I say, I did not hear that. Perhaps you did and I missed it.”

“So that is why you are so testy. Yes, well, you are right. I sometimes take you for granted. I am sorry.”

“There is no ‘sometime’ to it, Rabban, and yes I have your sop, two of them, in fact. After I left you I visited the Souk and bought a few apples. I cut out a core of one and filled the hollow with a potion that induces sleep. Horses, they tell me, love apples, and so there will be no difficulty inducing Pegasus to eat it. The problem arises in the dose. I know how much will put a man to sleep, but a horse? I also assumed that we only wanted to make the animal drowsy, not knock him out. That made the problem more difficult. I guessed this Pegasus must be the equivalent of twenty men, so I put in twenty times the normal dose I would use to induce sleep.”

“That should do it. So, what is the problem?”

“I have never dosed a horse. Do they respond to drugs the same as people? What if they are more sensitive to the potion and instead of making him docile and drowsy, I accidently killed him?”

“Ah, I see. That would be a tragedy. You said you had two sops. What was the other?”

‘I took a second apple and prepared it as the first with half the dose.”

“That was very wise of you. Which is which?”

“I tied a thread to the stronger one.”

“I don’t see a thread.”

Loukas grabbed up the apples and turned them over, first one, then the other. “I swear to you I—”

“Loukas, rest easy. The thread has been lost. Perhaps it is a sign that we should let the Lord chose. He will not let us down.”

“Bravely spoken. You do not believe that anymore than I do.”

“Do not presume, Loukas, if I said it, I believe it. We will have to trust whichever apple we use will do the job. How long will the dose last?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, this is turning out to be a good beginning. Very well, it can’t be helped. We must be off. We dare not be seen by either Procula’s entourage or anyone else lurking about and keeping tabs on her.”

“Or us.”

They made their way down the cobbled street to the enormous structure that the first Herod built for his Roman supporters. As he had ruled at the sufferance of a distant and often fickle Caesar, he thought it necessary to offer blandishments such as this huge hippodrome along with an amphitheater and several pagan temples. He’d patterned his hippodrome after the Greek model but made it grander and bigger, a characteristic of the way in which Roman culture absorbed the Greek. Bigger and grander, but rarely better. This Circus had been built into the hillside which allowed the earth that had been removed to make one end of the flat racecourse available for the construction of the opposite. The stables were located below the viewing stand at one end, and it was there that the two men hurried.

Loukas was uneasy in the presence of so much horse flesh. Thirty cubits away from the stalls, the aroma of manure nearly stopped him in his tracks. Gamaliel sent him to a vantage point well within his line of sight with instructions to signal when Procula appeared. He found Pegasus’ stall. Stable hands had not yet arrived, and he found himself alone with the horse. He seemed docile enough. Gamaliel wondered if he’d need Loukas’ soporific apples after all. When he lifted the latch and took one step into the stall, the horse’s nostrils flared, as he reared up on his hind legs and waved his forehooves in his Gamaliel’s direction. Gamaliel retreated. He would need the apple after all. He fished one from his pouch, prayed it was the correct one, and offered it to Pegasus.

“Here, my handsome beast, look at what the Rabban has brought you.”

The horse walked stiff-legged to the stall gate, snuffled, and took the prize. He bit down, chewed, and the apple disappeared down his gullet. Gamaliel waited. Nothing happened. Gamaliel could detect no sign of weariness or drowsiness. Time passed and still no signs of sedation. He had to assume that the drug needed time to be absorbed. The horse continued to stare at him in what he took to be a hostile manner. He murmured soothingly to the beast, the way he’d done when his boys were colicky or restless. A long time ago.

“So, Pegasus, time to sleep, yes? Shall we lie down now? Good horse.” Gamaliel wasn’t sure if horses slept standing or if they settled onto the hay. Horses were something he knew about only from hearsay, but he had a vague remembrance that they slept standing. “Or just close your eyes, there’s a good boy.”

He was conversing with a horse. He felt like an idiot. What other humiliation must he endure before he was done with this onerous assignment? Loukas called out and signaled that Procula had turned into the street and would arrive at any moment. In desperation, he produced the second apple and handed it to the horse. Loukas waved at him again, this time more urgently. There was no time to lose. Either Gamaliel must enter the stall and hope the horse did not kick him to death or he would have to abandon the plan altogether. He lifted the latch and stepped into the stall. The horse glared at him and pawed at the ground, apparently its wits not yet dulled by Loukas’ potion. Gamaliel shushed Pegasus, who shied to one side, but made no other menacing moves. He wondered if just buying the horse’s amity with the apple might have been all that had been needed. He didn’t have time to work that out. He flattened himself against the wall to the left of the stall gate and made more cooing sounds. Positioned as he was, he could not be seen from the corridor. The horse continued to glare at him. Gamaliel smiled back, he hoped, encouragingly.

Procula paused at the stall gate and spoke to the horse.

“Pegasus, my beauty,” she murmured and offered him an apple as well. He clopped forward for it, and Gamaliel pressed harder against the rough boards of the stall. Pegasus now stood perilously close. “How are you this lovely morning? Rabban, are you in there?” The latter said in a softer voice.

“I am.”

“My husband, the Prefect, tells me you wish to ask me questions.”

“I do. Only a few, but the answers might help. I am curious about the strange woman who entered your chambers the day of Aurelius’ murder. Do you remember?”

“I remember saying something to my husband at the time. Then, after I had thought about it, it seemed to me that I had, indeed, seen the face before. She would have been one of our company. After that I gave it no further thought.”

“I see. Do you think you would recognize her again if you were to see her?”

“Oh yes, certainly. Pegasus, you poor dear, are you not well? What is the matter with the horse, Rabban?”

Pegasus had started to sway.

“He seems fine, Madam, but then I am no expert. Another question about the woman, how would you describe her?”

“Describe?”

“Tall, short, plump, hair color…that sort of thing.”

The horse had swayed only slightly at first, but now he seemed to be staggering a little from side to side and threatened to pin Gamaliel to the wall.

“He looks very distressed, don’t you think?”

“He? Who? I thought we were discussing a woman.”

“The horse, Pegasus. He seems to be—”

“I believe he is dreaming, Madam. They do, you know. Past races, past glory. I would not worry. Description?”

“Oh, yes, the woman. Tallish. Now that you mention it, yes, very tall and, dare I say it, homely.”

“I see. Have you, in fact, seen this woman since?”

“Seen? I…umm, perhaps, I can’t be sure. There are so many…Oh dear, I fear the horse is ill, don’t you?”

“As I said, just little drowsy. Perhaps some bad fodder, nothing to concern you. So, you’re saying, yes, this woman has been in your company since that day?”

“In my company? No, not exactly but…he is more than just sleepy, Sir. Oh yes. Bad fodder you say? Really? No, I haven’t seen the woman although I sometimes think I have. But then that is frequently a problem for me. I see things, you know, visions. Often I cannot separate what’s real from what is not.”

“Would this woman have had access to your baggage when you saw her?”

“Access to our baggage?” The horse jolted to its right and to Gamaliel’s relief, away from him. “Yes, now that you mention it, she might well have. Is that important? Oh, poor Pegasus, you are ill! He is sick, Rabban.”

“Important? That would depend on the location of your husband’s dagger at the time. One last question, when your husband, the Prefect, received the message from the soldier to meet Priscus, was there anyone else nearby?”

“One or two of our visitors were there.” Pegasus coughed and drool dripped from the corner of his mouth. “I believe I must find this horse’s owner. There is something seriously wrong with the poor thing.”

“Madam, if I may—”

“No more, Rabban. The horse is ill, perhaps mortally so, can’t you see?”

Procula dashed off, and Gamaliel stepped to the stall gate. He turned to look at Pegasus. The Prefect’s wife was right to fetch the owner. The horse gurgled deep in its throat, huffed three times, crossed its eyes, and collapsed with a crash. Gamaliel had no idea a horse would be heavy enough to shake the earth when it fell. This one did at any rate.

Chapter XXIV

Gamaliel waved at Loukas to follow him and started up the hill toward the Temple and away from the hippodrome. Loukas caught up with him.

“Did the sop work?”

“Oh, indeed.”

“Do you have an idea which apple did the deed?”

“Absolutely.”

“Really? Which?”

“Both.”

“You gave the horse both apples?”

“He was hungry.”

“Hungry?”

“I had to. You called. Procula was on her way and the beast had yet to show the slightest sign of the drug’s efficacy. I gave him the next one. That seemed to do the trick.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. Listen, I know how much horses upset you. We need to be away from this place, Loukas.”

“Upset me? You might have killed that horse.”

“I believe after several hours of deep and restorative sleep, Pegasus will rise up refreshed and strong enough to pull two chariots. Come along, Loukas, we have more work to do this morning.”

“You will leave it, possibly to die?”

“Do I have an alternative? You are the healer. Are you suggesting you would like to go back and tend to it? Shall I fetch your bag of medicines and tools? Will your potions work any better on the horse this time?”

“You are correct. We have other more pressing things to deal with this morning.”

The two men hurried up the hill and away from the Circus. Gamaliel, gasping for air, raised his hand to signal Loukas to stop.

“You need some conditioning, Rabban. You sound like one of those horses after it has run the course.”

“And I feel like poor Pegasus must at this moment. The Lord only knows if and when he will run that course again and, like him, I am about to collapse.”

They found a shaded shop which offered them new wine and bread and cheese.

“Collect yourself, Rabban, while I attempt to remove the odor of horse manure from my sandals. Why did I let you talk me into this foolishness?”

Gamaliel caught his breath. “Even the offal disturbs you?”

“Anything equine, my friend. So, what did you learn from the wife of our esteemed Prefect?”

“Not much that we did not already know. After having given it much thought, she is certain that the mysterious woman who popped up in her rooms that day did belong to the household. She was vague as to how, exactly. I presume her household is large and has a turnover as slaves and servants come and go. Still, if the woman traveled down from Caesarea with the Prefect’s party, she would have been noticeable. Also, she said she believed she would recognize the woman again if she saw her. Now, here is the interesting part. I asked her if she remembered seeing the woman since that one encounter, and she cannot remember ever seeing her.”

“I see. Rabban, that makes no sense. If she is certain the woman is part of her household, what has happened that no one sees her for days?”

“As I said, it is an interesting point to consider. Perhaps she is ill, or left service, or visiting family. Oh, and one last thing. There were several people in the vicinity of the putative legionnaire when he delivered the message attributed to Priscus.”

“And you do not believe the Centurion sent that message?”

“No, I do not, but who knows? Anyway, enough of that. Let us review what we do know.”

“We know practically nothing. What is there to review?”

“Oh, I am not so sure about that. We know a few things. We do not know how or if they connect to Pilate’s predicament, but we know them. There is always something, you see. We do this summing up as both a discipline and in the hope that the thing we need to move us along will leap out at us at the utterance.”

“You mean that if you or I articulate a bit of trivia, it may take on significance in the presence of something else we’ve said?”

“In a nut shell, yes. So, what do we know that may touch on our investigation? We know that there are some former legionnaires in the area who also happen to be Israelites if not born here, at least are Jewish. How many we cannot say.”

“I can’t see that is important beyond a possible link to the radical groups in the area. Useful for the Roman establishment to know, but not for me.”

“Do not dismiss a detail, Loukas, simply because you do not see where it fits the story. You may be right, but I am drawn to the fact that prior to this week, I only knew of one, no, make that two, Jewish former legionnaires in the whole of Judea and the Galilee. Now I find there may be more than you can count on your fingers, perhaps several times over. I find that knowledge surfacing when it did most interesting. Then, we have the mystery woman. Pilate and his wife dismiss her out of hand. Perhaps they are right to do so, but we only just heard about her and I am curious about her single appearance. As you pointed out, if she is part of the household, where did she disappear to and why?”

“Well, I will grant you that it is a mystery, but I don’t see the connection of either of these points to the murder in the basement.”

“Nor do I, but I can’t dismiss them. Finally…”

“There is more?”

“Quite a bit, but for now, I am curious what has happened to our guide, Marius.”

“The boy? He has undoubtedly found a better way to waste his time than to traipse around Jerusalem with us. Besides, you said you had no use for him”

“That part is true enough. For the rest, you forget he is supposed to be a slave, Loukas. A slave does not choose how he wastes his time. In fact, he is not allowed to waste time at all. Either Pilate has found other duties for him, or he has run off, and more the pity if he is caught. Then, there is the possibility that he is not a slave at all, but holds some other position in the palace about which we are being kept in the dark. Either way, I believe we will require his presence before we are done.”

“Not a slave? The boy seems nice enough, but I saw no evidence of duplicity. Why would anyone pose as a slave if he were not one? What other position could he possibly have beyond what he has now? Maybe we should query Pilate as to what has become of our shadow.”

“Not just yet. I need to think about it for a day or two.”

“A day or two may not be available to us. Passover approaches, Rabban, and failing exoneration, Pilate’s removal to Rome soon after that.”

“Two Passovers if the Essenes among us have their way.”

“Pardon, two?”

“Our friends—I use the term loosely—in addition to believing the Temple is false and should be relocated to some holier place, employ a variant calendar. For them tonight is the Passover.”

“That’s awkward.”

“Only for those with friends or family who have joined that sect. It will mean two meals of remembrance for some of them. Come, we must press on.”

“Where to now?”

“Back to Pilate. I thought he failed to appreciate his position, and then I thought he was just dense.”

“Which are you thinking now?”

“That he is considering his position, and that he knows something he is not telling us. I do not know whether he withholds it deliberately or innocently. Luckily for us, I have memorized the path to that fetid hole he currently inhabits.”

“Do think he would object if I were to burn some incense?”

“Probably.”

***

Marius stood not quite twenty paces away, screened by an awning’s flap. He had been following them. He wiped the sweat from his brow. Dashing up the slope from the stables to the shadow of the Temple Mount had caused as much strain on him as it had the Rabban. He wished he could sit in the shade with Gamaliel and the Physician and enjoy a cup of wine as well, but not now. Not today. If he’d had any doubts before as to the Rabban’s intentions, they were now wiped away. Against all common sense, he seemed bent on investigating and possibly clearing Pilate’s name. Why would he do such a thing? Surely he knew that the Hebrews would celebrate the removal of this man who everyone detested. He had to know that, yet he pressed on. Worse, because of the old man’s stubbornness, Marius would never be free of the men who now owned him.

At first, he’d assumed the Rabban would simply go through the motions, investigate the murder, make a suitable public effort to ward off any punishment the Prefect might have planned for him had he refused to do so, and move on. Then later, when the Tribune and his men carted the Prefect off, Gamaliel would celebrate with the rest. But Marius had been wrong. The Rabban was serious. Worse than that, if what people said about him were true, he might succeed. The Greeks, the boy believed, called what he was feeling as being “caught between Scylla and Charybdis.” He did not know who or what those two things were, but grasped the sense of it. What should he do? Where did his loyalties lie? More importantly, could he muster the courage to act on his own and perhaps stick a knife in a man…or two? He looked down the street toward the looming hippodrome he’d just left. Should he tell the stable master who poisoned the horse? Would that solve a problem or create a new one? Certainly, it would distract the Rabban, but for how long? He decided to wait and see.