Gamaliel could think of no other reason to venture out. He’d been on the verge of inviting his friend to share the Passover with him and his sons that night, but let it slide. He lingered over his simple morning meal, consulted with Binyamin over what to serve that night, and dawdled over some scrolls. The Isaiah scroll tempted him but he rolled it tight and secured it with a cord. The leader of the Masad Hasidim would be traveling up from Qumran to pick it up sometime after Shabbat.
So, with no Loukas to discuss the hurdles they needed to vault in finishing the matter of the Prefect’s difficulties, he decided it would be a better use of his time if applied to reflection and remembrance of other, deeper matters, rather than sorting through the sordid behavior of the Roman elite and their hangers-on. Still, the sudden change in the Prefect’s status nagged at him. What had happened since they last met? Did the people who had traipsed after him and Loukas for most of the previous day have a connection with this abrupt change in the Prefect’s status? And where had the missing boy disappeared to? Gamaliel did not believe for an instant he was what he pretended to be, but if not, then who was he? A slave in the Prefect’s household, in the Fortress only, or something else. He did not sound like a slave, try as he might. Then again, what was a slave supposed to sound like? And the missing actors ought to be accounted for, if only to reduce a growing list of possible solutions for his puzzle. Gamaliel shook his head, too many unanswered questions and time was running out.
He needed an excuse to pay a visit to the Prefect, but it would have to be a legitimate one. He dared not risk confronting him straight on. No, he needed an excuse to call on the man but what, and how, and when? That had him stumped. What possible reason would he have for calling on Pilate today?
The answer came with an insistent knocking on his door.
***
Four Legionnaires, two on either side, escorted Gamaliel to the Antonia Fortress. At least he hoped escorted described it. When they’d arrived at his door the men refused to answer his questions as to the why and wherefore of their presence. They would only say that the Prefect required his attendance and then they marched him away.
With the orthodox Passover set to begin in seven or eight hours, the Temple Mount teemed with travelers rushing their sacrifices to the Temple and seeking supplies for the meal to be consumed at sundown. Unlike his previous trips to the Fortress accompanied by Roman soldiers, few of these people seemed to notice or care about its significance or Gamaliel’s possible fate.
Pilate stood in the wide veranda where he heard the petitions and complaints from the people over whom he ruled. Rufus stood to the Prefect’s right and to his left were two men whom Gamaliel assumed must be the mysterious visitors from Rome, the Tribune and Cassia, the accuser. A steep and broad flight of steps led up to the Prefect and his companions. Gamaliel paused before climbing them. His escort urged him on, not kindly.
Once at the top, Gamaliel paused to catch his breath. He had no problem walking and did so every day, but climbing stairs, especially long flights, presented him with a challenge. The Prefect signaled him to approach and greeted him.
“Ha Shem, Prefect. Greetings. Excuse me while I gather myself together. Ah, there. You called for me. How can I help?”
Pilate rolled his eyes to his left and then made non-blinking eye contact. Gamaliel understood. Whatever matter they discussed, he should be careful.
“Rabban, your High Priest arrived here early this morning dragging a teacher of some sort with him. He wanted me to pass judgment on the poor man.”
“Ah, Yeshua. Why bring this to you?”
“I suspect he has an agenda that only I can fulfill. He needs me to judge the man.”
“And did you?”
“No, it seems the rabbi is from Galilee. Your King would have jurisdiction, not I. I sent him off to see Herod Antipas, but…”
“But?”
“If I know your King and your High Priest, the latter will be back with his rabbi before the sixth hour.”
“Yes, that is very likely. I doubt the King has any interest in passing judgment on anyone since his disastrous mistake with the Baptizer. How does the High Priest’s obsession with the rabbi concern me?”
“As he will return and as I will be asked again to pass judgment on the man, I called you here to guide me. I do not know your laws concerning the charges he alleges.”
“I see.” Since when did Pilate care a fig about Jewish Law and its application?
“You have been involved in an investigation of the man, I believe.” Once again Pilate rolled his eyes left and then back to Gamaliel.
“Investigation…let me think…”
“There is an allegation of murder, I believe. This man was said to have been at the scene of a suspicious death. I believe you were looking into that.”
Gamaliel rocked back on his heels. When Pilate wished to be clever, he did so very nicely. Unfortunately, his usual mode involved rudeness and bullying, not subtlety.
“I have been looking into that very issue. There are problems yet to be addressed.”
“Indeed, what problems? Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”
“Well, for one thing, a boy is missing and I believe he might shed some light on the…ah…the rabbi’s situation.”
“I see. When the…High Priest mentioned it I wondered about that too. You’re asking about this missing boy, yes, and where he might be?”
“That and I also wondered if he were in the…um, rabbi’s household, or in one of the rabbi’s critics, or belonged to some other, independent group.”
“Is it important?”
“I believe so. To whom did he answer, you see? Then there is the matter of who else knew where and when to witness the event, you could say.”
“I believe the boy might have been of neither house, but local. You know how it is with your people. Here today and somewhere else tomorrow. So, not of the accused household, you see? I cannot respond to the second part of your question. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly. Another question, then, is it possible that the death of this person and the High Priest’s push for judgment are not connected?”
“Pardon?”
Gamaliel realized that the Prefect had lost the thread. He tried again. “When the case was brought to my attention—”
“By the High Priest.”
“Yes. As I was saying, when I first heard of the case, I assumed the killing and the need to judge the rabbi were linked. That is, that the people who witnessed it were involved in the broader charges, if you follow. It occurs to me now that that may not be the case. That the interest in the ah…rabbi’s teaching and the murder might be separate and unrelated events. What would you say to that?”
Pilate frowned and appeared deep in thought. Then, his face brightened. “I see. That is very perceptive, Rabban. My friend, Rufus, has had a conversation with some people familiar with the event in question and tells me that there is every likelihood that you are correct.”
So, the murder of Aurelius and the visitors’ interest in Pilate were only coincidental. That meant that even if he could prove Pilate innocent, he still might be shipped off to Rome for some other offense. There could be more to celebrate on this Passover than anyone expected. Gamaliel did not know how much longer he could keep this up. Fortunately, at that moment, the two men standing to the Prefect’s left drifted away, apparently bored with chatter about the fate of a rabbi. When they were out of earshot, Pilate waved Gamaliel into a corner.
“What Rufus discovered makes no sense except the Emperor makes no sense most of the time. I won’t bore you with the details, but yes, they are two separate items.”
“That is helpful. You cannot tell me what the Emperor is after?”
“Later, perhaps. You will not be pleased. I retract that. I believe you will be amused. Is there anything else? Be quick. Those two will not stay away for very long.”
“Two questions. What do you know about drama?”
“Drama? Nothing. It is the preoccupation of the inherently idle and unemployed. It is a waste of time. Why do you ask?”
“There are elements of this mystery that smack of bad melodrama.”
“If you say so. Your second question, and be quick.”
“What was the man, Aurelius, doing in the corridor when he was killed?”
“Ah. I have no idea. Perhaps he was following me. As I told you—”
“I remember. Following you? Yes, that would fit.”
“It would? Good. I have one question for you. Consider carefully before you answer.”
Chapter XXXVI
The midday sun casts no shadows. Sarai paced the floor. No shadows outside, just those in her mind. Yakob. She worried about Yakob. He went out last night to one of his meetings and had returned very late. She knew it was not her place to question him. A wife must know her place and honor her husband. It was the Lord’s wish. She muttered her way through Proverbs.
A foolish son is the calamity of his father: and the contentions of a wife are a continual dropping…A continual dropping in a very rainy day and a contentious woman are alike…House and riches are the inheritance of fathers: and a prudent wife is from the Lord…It is better to dwell in the wilderness than with a contentious and angry woman…It is better to dwell in the corner of the housetop, than with a brawling woman and in a wide house.
She wanted to be a worthy wife. It was not her place to question what Yakob did at those meetings. Yet, she knew in her heart that nothing good could come from them. She feared he might even be taken from her. Then, what would she do? Perhaps she should consult the Rabban. But what could he say to her? “Be obedient and withdrawn, daughter. Know your place and rejoice that the Lord has blessed you with a noble husband.”
What did an old Rabbi know about love, about surviving in the world? He lived in luxury, safe from want, from threats to his person. Had Ha Shem blessed her with a noble husband? Yes, he had and she did not want to lose him over the foolish idea that Rome was vulnerable to the plots and schemes of those rabble rousing former soldiers and outlaws who drew him away at night.
Yakob walked in and found her on her face praying.
“Get up, woman. What are you doing on the floor?”
“I am praying to Ha Shem that you will turn away from those people you conspire with when you leave here at night.”
“Turn away? Don’t be silly, woman. Those people are the only hope we have for freedom from these Roman terrors that daily bleed the poor and enrich themselves from the labor of a conquered Nation.”
“What? That is not you speaking, husband. Those words come from some other place. We are safe here. We have shelter and wages and a decent master. Soon, we will have saved enough to have our own house and perhaps a business. I could bake loaves and sell them in the market. Everyone loves my—”
“Be still, I say. You are a woman. You cannot grasp the complexities of our situation. Bake your loaves if you want, but leave saving of the Nation to me, to us.”
“But…”
“Enough of this, woman. I must be off. There is work to be done.”
“What shall I tell the Physician when he returns? What if he has tasks for you?”
“I will be back in an hour or two.”
“Where are you going? Please…”
“We are going to attempt to free Barabbas from prison.”
“Free Barabbas? He is a brigand, an outlaw, and a murderer. He preys on his own people. Turning him loose would be like unleashing a wolf into the sheep fold. Would you invite this wolf into our house as well? Why would you do such a thing? It makes no sense.”
“Why? Because when Barabbas is in the wilderness, it takes a full cohort of legionnaires to track him. He leads them around the hills, this way and that, and when they finally run out of water and realize they are lost…well, that’s one less band of Romans for us to worry about.”
“And if they do not become lost?”
“Then they are tied up out there and are not here to abuse us.”
“And the innocent people who are destroyed by Barabbas and his band of cutthroats, what of them?”
“In a war, there are casualties. It cannot be helped. Now I must go.”
Yakob slammed out the door. Was he truly off to free the brigand, Barabbas? How does one free a felon from the depths of the Antonia Fortress? He could lose his life in the attempt. Once a legionnaire…Why were men so stubborn? Sarai dropped to the floor and renewed her praying.
***
Gamaliel found Loukas loitering outside his door when he returned from his meeting with Pilate.
“Greetings in the Name, Loukas. Why are you standing on my doorsill? Is Binyamin not at home to let you in?”
“I didn’t knock. I am in the open for a reason.”
“Indeed? And what is that?”
“People pass by this house, many people. None stop unless they are calling on a householder nearby. Movement, you see. So, if someone lingers, someone like me, it is noticeable.”
“Yes, that is so. Is someone ‘noticeable’ nearby?”
“That is the point. No one dare linger. They will be discovered at once, therefore, if anyone is curious about you or me and has the temerity to dog our heels, they will have to give it up here on this street or be discovered. Now, I will join you inside.”
“Loukas, I congratulate you on your amazing plan to root out people who wish to keep us under scrutiny. A question, if they wished to keep an eye on us, they only have to drop out of sight around that corner and wait.”
“You think? I believe by idling out here they would be equally fearful of discovery and confused by the behavior. ‘What,’ they will say to themselves, ‘will someone think that man is doing loitering in the street?’ They will vacate the area to ponder on the problem I have set for them.”
“I see. Come in, I have things to report.”
They settled in the great room. Binyamin brought them a cooling drink.
“Now,” Gamaliel began, “I was summoned to the Prefect’s presence this morning by four legionnaires. I must say that for a moment it seemed like old times.”
Gamaliel recounted his odd visit with Pilate and the ruse of speaking about his case while seeming to address that of Yeshua.
“That was very clever of you, Rabban.”
“Not I. Pilate initiated it. At the end, when his watchers grew bored and drifted away, we could speak openly. Our opportunities to do so in the future are severely limited, however.”
“You learned some interesting facts?’
“Facts? I don’t know about that, but I did find out that the missing boy was not from Caesarea. He may not have been from the Fortress staff either. Pilate was not sure. Also he confirmed that the interest his visitors have in him is not connected in any way to the murder.”
“What then?”
“He said that Rufus, had overheard something or other, but he would not tell me what it was.”
“Well, that’s not helpful.”
“Not exactly, but it raises possibilities for the future. In any event, there is nothing we can do about it. More interesting was a question he put to me as I left. He asked me to comment on a hypothetical situation concerning the relationship to gods in general and to Ha Shem in particular. I could not follow him at first.”
“What was the question? We will parse it out and have it from him anyway.”
“Possibly. He put this problem to me. If the gods were conspiring and if he were accused by one to favor the other but wished to assure it/he/she that he, Pilate, did not, in fact, favor him or her or it, how would he do that while maintaining his relationship with both?”
“I’m sorry. I have no clue as to what that means.”
“Nor do I. I had him reframe it several times. His watchdogs seemed to be curious about our prolonged discourse and started to move toward us.”
“What did you do?”
“I said, ‘Are you asking me how one would assu
re one entity that your loyalty is to it and not to another when it believes it is not so? That you favor one of your gods over another?’”
“And?”
“He nodded. The two visitors had come too close by then for him to say anything more.”
“And your answer was?”
“I said he should do something that made it imminently clear he had no interest in the second deity.”
“Do something? What could you do to a god?”
“What indeed? I have no familiarity with their gods and their peculiarities. One does not question Ha Shem or try to deceive Him.”
“You had no advice.”
“Oh, I played his game. I suggested he could destroy something that god held dear, desecrate a Temple, release his enemy, or murder his offspring. Isn’t that how they work things out in their dramas, their tragedies?”
“We are back to the theater.”
“From the start of this enterprise, I’m afraid we may never have left it.”
Chapter XXXVII
Pilate watched Gamaliel descend the steps to the Temple Mount, and then he pivoted and waved cheerily to the two men who had spent the morning watching him. He sought a quiet corner to think through what he’d been told. The Tribune and Cassia thought they had him, thought he’d been put in the arena with an assortment of lions and tigers licking their chops and eager for a meal. They were about to be proven wrong and the Rabban had handed him a way out. Gamaliel would have no idea that he’d done it, a fact he found very amusing. He’d managed to contain his glee until after the Rabban left and the Tribune and Cassia were out of earshot. The moment Gamaliel’s response had left his lips he had the solution to the first of his problems. By that very evening, perhaps sooner if the High Priest didn’t dawdle or Herod didn’t stall, he’d clear the way to resume his position and perquisites. Pilate could hardly contain himself.
There was still the little matter of Aurelius’ murder to be dealt with. He would have to rely on the Rabban for that. What really annoyed him was, if Aurelius Decimus had been a commoner instead of an equal, the murder would have been quickly dismissed. One tradesman or laborer more or less would not concern anyone, except the dead man’s family. But as Aurelius held a moderately exalted position and purportedly the Emperor’s favor, his death could not be easily swept away. He must first, however, take the necessary steps to disengage the primary mission pursued by Grex and Cassia Drusus. Once accomplished, he could turn his attention back to the murder. He made his way down to the prison cells.
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