The Wolf and the Lamb (3 page)

Chapter IV

During the Hebrews’ High Holy days, the number of Roman troops billeted in Jerusalem increased to a full cohort and a half, with the arrival of the Prefect of the Palestine, Pontius Pilate, and his household. Pilate and his entourage would make the trip southward along the coast of the Middle Sea from Caesarea Maritima to Joppa, and then climb the hills to Jerusalem. There, they would be joined by the resident legionnaires and staff assigned to the Antonia Fortress.

Passover especially attracted faithful Jews. Pilgrims were known to travel from places as far away as Hispania or Britannia, eager to be in King David’s city for this celebration of the Flight from Egypt and its Pharaoh into the Promised Land. Worshippers, celebrants, and curiosity-seekers crowded into an area that could comfortably accommodate a tenth their number. Add to that the presence of the Emperor in the person of the Prefect and every radical, latent revolutionary, plus scores of fakers and frauds, and the mixing and mingling in their number made for an unusually tense time. Thus, the Empire bolstered its military presence. It was a cycle repeated every year—and one that would one day lead to confrontation and bloodshed and the destruction of a Nation.

Now, a full week before the beginning of the holiday, the city’s population had already grown twentyfold. An official delegation sent by the Emperor had arrived unannounced. The Prefect had not been read into the reason for it being thrust on him, and that worried him. With Emperor Tiberius sequestered on the Isle of Capri, wallowing in depravity and madness, any sort of visitation commissioned by him that included people of rank and influence did not bode well for the residents of Roman Palestine in general, nor Pilate, in particular. Still, he had had to follow up on the Centurion’s request. And now? The untimely death of his rival displaced all other concerns he may have had. The presence of these officials and their mission was overshadowed by a need to survive a charge of murder. Pilate found himself reduced to waiting for the Rabban of the Sanhedrin to come to his rescue. The eagle must seek help from the hare; the wolf must seek guidance from the sheep.

The irony would not be lost on either of them.

***

Try as he might, Gamaliel could not extract anything more from the boy except that the Prefect wishes to see the Rabban, and it is a matter of some urgency. The last time Gamaliel could remember having been summoned into the Prefect’s presence, it had not been an easy meeting. He hoped this one would not be a repeat of that. As they approached the Antonia Fortress, his guide veered sharply to the side and circled the building. Gamaliel began to wonder if he hadn’t been lured into a trap. The broad stairway leading up from the Temple Mount into the platform that fronted the Fortress was the only entrance he knew. Where was this boy taking him? Surely Pilate…

“Here now, boy,” he said. “Where are you taking me? This is not the way to the Prefect.”

“I am only following my orders, sir. Please, this way.”

The boy hurried on. Gamaliel had no choice but to follow. He could have reversed and gone home, but he doubted that ploy would work. If the Prefect really did wish to see him, he’d be dragged back again and not nicely. Besides, his curiosity had been piqued. He knew that his curiosity often ended by putting him in situations that were less than beneficial, yet he yielded to it. Pilate could be arbitrary and cruel, but at the same time, any call into his presence would be intriguing. His best course was to follow the boy and see what the mighty Roman had in store.

Bypassing the Prefect’s elaborate apartment, where in the past Gamaliel had been alternately scolded and cajoled, the boy led him through a small portal and into a rat’s warren of corridors. After six or so turns, Gamaliel lost all sense of direction. He could not have found his way out to save his life. Now, he had no choice but to quick-step along with the boy. After what seemed a lifetime, the boy flung open a heavy cedar door and ushered him into a smallish room. There were no windows and the only egress seemed to be the door through which he’d just entered. The space was redolent with the nearly overpowering scent of burning pitch emitted by the flames of seven torches set about the walls in angled sconces. In the room’s center Pilate sat in a rough chair behind an even cruder table. If Gamaliel had to guess, this room would normally serve as a gathering place for the soldiers stationed at the Fortress or perhaps a holding room for prisoners. That possibility nearly brought him to an abrupt stop.

“Greetings, Excellency,” he said. “You summoned me and I came.” He waved his arm in a circle, “I am sure there must be an explanation for this…ah…setting. I am here and at your disposal.”

While he spoke, Gamaliel scrutinized the Roman. In all his dealings with the Prefect in the past, the man had been trim, well turned out, and supremely confident. But this Prefect slouched in his chair, wine cup atilt. He had not shaved his beard, the peculiar custom practiced by Gentiles. His clothing seemed rumpled. He had left off his signature decorative body armor and wore only a short toga and a crude leather belt which would have seemed more appropriate for a soldier than the Emperor’s official overseer of the Promised Land.

Pilate waved him into a chair. “As you have noted, this setting is not my usual place to conduct business. To be perfectly honest with you, I am
in laribus
.”

“Pardon?”

“I am under house arrest. That is if it is possible for one to place the current and only anointed Prefect in that condition.”

“Excellency, you need to be more specific. By whom and for what crime have you been arrested?”

“Sit. It is a long story. Knowing how gossip floats about Jerusalem, you will have heard by now that the Emperor recently dispatched several emissaries to the city. I was to provide the usual hospitality afforded people of their rank and position. They, in turn, were to deliver dispatches, witness the city at its busiest, and report back on my efficiency. At any rate, I assumed that was the reason they were here. With the Emperor and his Commissions you can never be sure, but, as I had no other information, it is what I must accept as their purpose.”

“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.”

“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.”