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“How shall we do this?”

The high priestess blinked.

“You can be a cooperative
puella
and let me please you as I like, or you can thrash and scream and I’ll stuff a rag in your mouth until I’m finished roughing you up. What will it be?”

Julia turned toward the wall and tried not to let a tear steal down her face as she thought of losing part of what it meant to be a priestess.

“Do as you like,” she whispered.

Once he had her permission, the prefect was surprisingly gentle. He stroked her in several different spots to elicit a reaction; but when it was clear that none were forthcoming, he knelt and began to probe her most secret places with his mouth.

Julia tried to pretend that she wasn’t enjoying his attention. The cruelest man in Judea was violating her, stealing away the purity that was required of a priestess. But at the same time, she secretly reveled. She’d been a priestess of the Goddess for eleven years and a neophyte for a year and a half before that. When most girls had been thinking of their first marriages and finding pleasure in the arms of a man, Julia had been in her final years as a scribe to the woman who would later become high priestess. If she had been admitted to the temple at the age of eleven, as she had always dreamed, she might not have had any awareness about carnal desires at all. But now the dreams that had sometimes come upon her when she was a young girl were beginning to come true…even if they were being granted by the last man she would have picked.

“Are you all right?”

The high priestess met her captor’s eyes for the first time since the baths and was so startled that she couldn’t find the words to answer him. Pontius, to his credit, merely gave her a small smile and shifted so that he slowly entered her.

Julia drew in a sharp breath and grabbed at the edges of the pallet.

“Breathe,” he encouraged. “It’s always worse the first time.”

She took a deep, gasping breath and he pried her hands from the pallet so that he could hang onto them as he moved. To her great reluctance, Julia’s cries soon went from pain to pleasure. She crested just before the prefect and had just finished the bumpy ride down when he rolled off her. The rest of their bodies had dried, but the high priestess was still damp where they had touched.

Pontius stumbled to his feet and disappeared. She lay there, stunned; only moving when a slave came to help her to her feet.

Julia had been asleep for several hours by the time the knock came at her door. Caius had come and gone, grumbling all the while about being deprived of his mistress’ holiday. When it was clear that the high priestess would not be invited to dinner, the slave found her some food, assisted her in the bathing chamber, plaited her hair and put her to bed. The knock came again, harder this time, but Julia was opening the door before Caius was even a quarter of the way across the room.

“The prefect will see you in ten minutes,” announced the soldier in the corridor.

“Ten
minutes?
” Caius echoed. “The only thing
Dominus
Pontius is going to see in ten minutes is his foot in your
asinæ!
It’s going to take
three times
that long if I’m to prepare
Domina
Julia by myself!”

“I will let the
dominus
know that you are coming.”

The door closed and the bar slid back into place. Caius stared at it in disbelief.

“How the f—”

“Never mind that,” interrupted Julia. “I don’t know what he was thinking, but I’m going to be a mess. There is no time to heat the tongs, I have no idea what there is in here to wear—if anything…cosmetics…no clue…”

“I wasn’t really paying attention before, but this is where Lady Claudia stays when she and Lord Pontius sleep apart. There should be limited clothing, jewelry and cosmetics in here.”

Caius went and rummaged through a chest on the far wall. “Don’t worry about your hair…I braided it tightly enough that it should fall down your shoulders in waves. There’s no time to pin it or do too much else with it.”

“I found some madder and…I don’t know what this stuff is…”

When the soldier returned, he stood in the doorway for a moment, as if slightly stunned.

“Will the prefect see me now?” prompted the high priestess.

“Y-yes. Of course,
Domina
.”

“
Domina
Analenya, Chief Vestal in Jerusalem’s College of Vestal Virgins.”

Pontius watched the priestess step carefully down the stairs and wondered when she got so demure. In Rome, Vestals weren’t permitted to climb more than two steps to preserve their modesty, but Analenya had relaxed the rule; especially when her priestesses were coming back down from various locations in the city. The
Vestalis Maxima
had her
palla
pinned over her left shoulder, but she still bowed her head as if she were a neophyte hiding beneath her veil. The prefect shook his head, thinking,
As if we haven’t been friends since before I took office.

“Analenya. You look beautiful this evening.”

“I wasn’t aware that you were entertaining visitors this evening,
Dominus Praefectus
,” she said, reaching up to unpin her
fibula
. “As I do not see
Domina
Claudia here, I assume that this is official business.”

Pontius nodded to a slave, who stepped over to help the Vestal arrange her
palla
over her hair. “My wife is on her way to Herculaneum, where she will enjoy the rest of her spring before spending the summer with friends in Pompeii.”

She hesitated when a second slave offered her a goblet of wine. “Even if this is well-watered, don’t you think we should keep our wits about us?”

He snapped his fingers and took a cup. “You can wait. I, however, will need something before this night is over.”

“
Domina
Julia Severide, High Priestess of the Temple of Isis, Jerusalem.”

They both looked up as Julia descended. Somehow, having only one slave and a limited time to prepare had done wonders. She wore a scarlet
stola
and no cosmetics; her hair plaited in the simple braid of a priestess. The slave had placed a gold collar in Julia’s hair in deference to her rank, but the high priestess had thrown a translucent veil on top of that. The only jewelry she wore was a slender golden ring on her right hand, one that the prefect was certain bore a solitary ankh.

“I greet you, Sister.” Analenya was the first to break the silence; she bore a stunning contrast in her robes of white.

“May the gods bring blessings upon you and your temple,” Julia replied in unusually formal Latin. The two women embraced briefly.

“
Dominus
, I must beg of you two favors,” Julia continued.

Pontius raised an eyebrow.

“First, I must ask that you not call me high priestess. When you had me arrested, I did not know if I would return; I immediately appointed Livia Templa in my place.

“Furthermore, at your wish, I violated my oath of chastity without being released by
Domina
Livia. Therefore, I must ask that you no longer call me priestess; I am not worthy of the title.”

“I refuse to grant your request, Julia, on two grounds.

“However much you may wish differently, I am the prefect of Judea and my word supersedes all others, save that of our emperor. Consequently, if I say that your execution of my command does not violate any vows that you may have made in the past or will make in the future, Livia must accept my ruling.”

Julia nodded.

“I do, nevertheless, grant that you must not be called high priestess of the Temple of Isis, but with one change: I hereby declare you priestess of the prefectural household. You may return to your priestesses until the Day of Saturn, but after that, you will live in your own chambers here in the palace, unless and until I grant otherwise.”

Pontius turned to the scribe, who was busily taking notes. “Write the order at once, Lucius. I will sign and
Domina
Julia will countersign as soon as you are finished.”

Lucius, who was surprised at actually being address by name, nodded vigorously. “At once,
Dominus Praefectus
.”

The prefect snapped his fingers and a slave appeared with a small black box. Pontius gestured for Julia to rise.

“Your authority will not be recognized without this.”

He retrieved something from the box and drew her closer. Sliding it on her finger, he said,

“At my command, I name you Julia Severide,
Flaminica Imperialis
.”

A glance revealed that it was a feminine signet ring with what appeared to be an ankh intertwined with the sigil of Rome. A glance is all she took, however, for in one expansive gesture, the prefect dismissed the first slave, summoned a second, and returned Julia to her seat.

“Bring in the prisoner.”

When the prisoner arrived, Julia quickly pulled her veil down over her face and bowed her head. He had said this was coming, but the way her heart leapt, nothing in this world or the next could have prepared her for it.

“
Dominus
Pontius, I bring you Jesus of Nazareth, whom the Jews claim is unlawfully calling himself their king.”

At the centurion’s announcement, the soldiers dropped a bloodied and beaten Yeshua to the floor.

“Thank you, Jacobus. Stand by.”

The centurion and his soldiers struck their fists to their hearts, leaving Yeshua panting in their wake. Julia raised her eyes just enough to see Analenya peering through the crack in her drawn
palla
before the prefect spoke.

“Yeshua ben Miriam, called Jesus of Nazareth, you have been brought before a special tribunal of the prefect of Judea, the chief Vestal and the
Flaminica Imperialis
.” Pontius looked like he was about to say something else official, but he paused. “Are you listening, man?”

“I listen,” said a faint voice in elementary Latin. “But I do not necessarily obey.”

“Perhaps we should use Aramaic,” Julia said quietly. “Analenya, are you comfortable with the local language?”

“I was born here,” she replied, changing to Aramaic.

“The second voice is familiar,” said Yeshua, also in Aramaic. “Lady Julia, is that you?”

She bit her lip. “It is.”

“And the prefect… called you…‘Imperial Priestess’?”

“It is a long story, Yeshua, and little to do with your trial.”

“Before we begin,” the prefect interrupted. “All Vestal Virgins have the power to exonerate the condemned on sight. Analenya, do you wish to declare a pre-emptive pardon?”

The veil moved slightly as she bowed her head. “I do not, Lord Pontius. You felt it was necessary to honor the request of the Sanhedrin; therefore, I acknowledge your will.”

“Julia, I am offering you a onetime courtesy.”

When she spoke, her voice was rough with sorrow. “I recognize Yeshua ben Miriam as a messenger of peace from the god he serves. Nevertheless, I, too, must decline.”

“Very well.” Pontius turned to the heap on the floor, which had not bothered to roll into a sitting position. “Jesus of Nazareth, I am asking for an immediate plea to guilt: are you the King of the Jews?”

“I am whoever you say I am.”

“Are you the defender of your people?” asked Analenya. “Are you planning the fall of Rome?”

“I defend my people not with swords, but with words. I do not seek the fall of Rome; it will decline in its own time.”

“Do you believe you are fated to die for your people?” Julia questioned.

“I am.”

She met the eye peeping through the Vestal’s veil. It might have been customary for the Vestals to appear at every public proceeding, but Julia had begun to wonder how it was that she got dragged into the trial.

“Detail for me your plan of attack,” said Pontius.

“What plan of attack? I told you, Rome will fall on its own time.”

“So you do not plan to assemble your own army?”

“No.”

“Are you planning Rome’s downfall from the inside? Perhaps thinking you will make Jerusalem your base?”

When Yeshua didn’t answer, the prefect glanced at the priestesses. “I’m starting to see why Herod Antipas said he was uncooperative.”

“He has already said that he is not planning to take over Rome,” Julia pointed out. “Why press him on the subject?”

Analenya pulled back her veil, so that the sides rested on her shoulders. “If you are not going to take over Rome, then why do they call you King of the Jews? Do you plan to become the next tetrarch?”

“I have no desire to be a tetrarch,” Yeshua said to the floor. “And it is only you and Pilatus that call me the King of the Jews.”

He lifted his head a little. “Have you not noticed that the Imperial Priestess refuses to call me by such terms?”

“Yes,” Analenya replied. “Why is that, Lady Julia?”

“I do not believe Lord Pontius mandated my presence at Yeshua’s trial to quibble over what the people call him. I am here to determine how he has angered the Sanhedrin and whether public safety is at risk.”

“Caiaphas does not like that I call myself ‘rabbi’. He says that I do not follow the ways of Moses and the prophets that have come before. Perhaps he would be happier if I backed down and showed some humility, but that’s not what I’m here for.”

“What
are
you here for?”

“To spread the word of Yahweh, my Father. I am here to convey love, peace and safety of the Lord, our God, and to tell those who will listen of His kingdom, which is not of this world.”

“You think the god of Moses is your father?” Analenya demanded.

“That’s not important,” the prefect snapped. “He just said he has a kingdom that is not of this world! He lies, then! He
is
the King of the Jews!”

Analenya and Pontius argued for several minutes before Julia yelled, “
Quiet!
We are not here to argue like children, we are here to hold a trial!

“Lord Prefect, if you cannot conduct yourself in a seemly fashion, then
I
will oversee the trial. I assume that is within the power of an Imperial Priestess?”