The Painted Messiah

by Craig Smith

  'I have a general description of it. It's on a panel of wood, maybe a quarter of an inch thick, thirteen or fourteen inches tall and eight or nine inches wide.'

  'Gold? Inlaid jewels?'

  He shook his head. 'Here's the thing. The people involved are paying twenty-five million dollars for it.' The contessa's expression did not change, but Malloy was certain something happened - call it a twinkling in the eye or a moment of recognition. 'When I started trying to price comparable pieces, rare as they are, the pieces go for forty or fifty thousand up to half a million. Nothing is close to what my people are paying.'

  'What is your involvement, Thomas?'

  'I'm moving it for them.'

  'Smuggling it?'

  'Just moving it.'

  'If the people are lying to you about the nature of the object you have to deal with or the price they are paying, my advice is to walk away. Better yet . . . run.'

  Malloy smiled and shook his head. 'I can't do that. This is my chance to get back to what I do best.'

  'Then I don't think I can help you, except to say you might be looking at something like what happened to you in Beirut.'

  Malloy felt like a man who has just had the ground under his feet taken away from him. 'How do you know about Beirut?'

  'People talk, Thomas. Rather, I should say, they whisper.'

  'The people who know about Beirut don't.'

  'A neophyte intelligence officer inherits half a dozen low-level agents who pass along outdated information. Some months later he is running a network of twenty- four agents and catches wind of an attack being planned against the US Marine base. He passes the information to his superiors and tries to discover specific details. The following day he is in a G. I. hospital with six bullet wounds. Eight of his people are dead, and the rest are evacuated. Two days after that, some two hundred and forty marines perish, and Reagan orders American troops out of Lebanon.'

  Malloy tried to smile, but he didn't make much of it. 'They say we learn from our mistakes,' he said finally.

  'Actually,' she answered, 'they say we should learn from them. The truth is that most people have a regrettable tendency to repeat them.'

  'Do you know something I don't know, Contessa?'

  'I know a great deal more than you do, Thomas, about a great many things. In this instance, I know that you never trusted your superiors again after Beirut and, because of it, you were so successful it caused problems that you could not even imagine. I know, too, that your skills aren't what they were. You have lost that skepticism you are so proud of, say what you will to the contrary, and you think you can handle this job without much trouble, because it looks like nothing can go wrong. You expect that once you do you will be back to your old tricks, not lying in your grave.'

  Malloy felt a chill run down his spine when she mentioned his grave. 'Tell me what you know.'

  'I know you are standing in a pit of vipers, but you don't see them because you are half asleep.'

  Malloy wanted to argue or explain or at least to defend himself, but he resisted the impulse. A woman capable of bringing the Swiss banking system to its collective knees was not someone he cared to underestimate.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Palace of Herod Antipas, Peraea

  Summer AD 26.

  Although Herod the Great had been an extraordinary man, it was universally acknowledged his sons were not. They pretended otherwise, of course. They had learned pomposity at their father's knee. Philip ruled at a luxurious court in a tetrarchy to the north of Galilee. Antipas shuffled between Galilee and Perea with a great train of servants and officials of government in his procession. Each son dreamed of uniting his father's kingdom again, but in truth the time was long past when either of them might make a credible effort at it. Sejanus had made that clear to Pilate when offering him his present position. Judaea, Samaria and Idumaea belonged to the emperor because Herod's eldest son had been incompetent.

  Rather than replace him with either Philip or Antipas, letting a once-prosperous kingdom perish in the process, Augustus had taken the contentious provinces as his own and restored the peace. According to Sejanus, Augustus's decision had proven the better course of action. Over the past three decades Antipas had repeatedly demonstrated the same capricious brutality as his elder brother, Archaelaus, while Philip's indolence extended to the point that he had lost his wife to his brother and did not rouse himself from his banquet couch to go and chase after her.

  Pilate had been expecting to encounter a rather dull intelligence when he journeyed to Peraea to meet Antipas. Instead he discovered an urbane gentleman of sixty years, possessing a silky voice, a lively wit, and an engaging sense of humor. Antipas shared his father's less than substantial stature as well as his tendency to carry extra weight. Despite this he seemed an energetic man with lively black eyes that missed nothing inside the great banquet hall and probably nothing beyond his palace gate either, and though he did not trust the tetrarch, Pilate found, at least at the start of the evening, that he liked him very much.

  Herodias, Antipas's new wife, appeared to be about half his age. She struck Pilate as a woman of obvious intellectual capacity with the imperious manner that came to women whose intelligence exceeded that of their husbands. Pilate's initial reaction to the woman was the curious thought that Antipas had not seduced her away from his brother for the sake of her beauty. He was wondering what magic potions Herodias had employed, when Antipas summoned her daughter into the hall to perform a dance. Salome was a tempting delicacy of some twelve or thirteen years, not yet ready for marriage but very close - and far prettier than her mother. Pilate enjoyed her performance but was curious enough about the family that he pulled his gaze from the dance to see how Antipas reacted to it. The tetrarch, he realized, was besotted with his stepdaughter.

  Pilate's intelligence on the notorious marriage suggested that Antipas had fallen for Herodias shortly before his visit to Rome and persuaded her, through secret correspondences while he was yet abroad, to leave his brother and join him in Galilee on his return - as his wife. The role of Salome in all this had not been mentioned, but it seemed to him as he watched the newlyweds that Salome had been the critical factor, almost certainly, he thought, operating as her mother's agent. For what reason he could only guess.

  It was not Pilate's business of course, but the possibilities inherent in the complex interaction of this newly forged family would interest Sejanus, and Pilate intended to make a full report once he was safely returned to Caesarea.

  While Antipas almost certainly enjoyed the advantage of receiving a visit from Caesar's new prefect before bothering himself with a journey to Caesarea, he made every effort to let Pilate know he considered him his most honoured guest - at least until he had consumed so much wine that he no longer cared. Pilate and Procula reclined upon his right and left hand at the head table in a rare and somewhat unsettling mix of the two sexes at a banquet.

  They were also the first to be introduced to the audience of some twenty courtiers and ladies. Antipas accorded them both lengthy speeches of praise. Procula's association with the Claudii seemed especially significant, though he was politic enough to praise her beauty above her family connections, and Pilate basked in the reflected glory of it.

  The meal itself was decidedly Oriental and as ingeniously presented as anything in the court of Tiberius. During one of the latter courses Antipas became less interested in his food and more excited by the quality of the wine he served. He was the sort of alcoholic who loses none of his motor skills. Instead, as he drank, he became more animated and loquacious. On the subject of wine Antipas asked Pilate if it compared favorably to Italian vintages. It was indeed far superior to most of the wines Pilate had experienced, but he was too much of a patriot to admit it, and answered that in Rome one drank the wines of the world, which was to say, Roman wine.

  Antipas, who probably should have understood he was making the prefect uncomfortable, pointed out that Pilate had avoided making an
y kind of judgment at all. Pilate turned his attention to Herodias, who drank with more care. He was quite certain she had never said anything she had not intended. 'As pleasant as the food and wine is I'm afraid I much prefer the gracious company of this evening.'

  The compliment ought to have finished the matter, but Antipas clearly wanted to make his point, and his point was insult. 'It is useful to appreciate the differences in our cultures, Prefect, don't you think? It is not simply a matter of agriculture and climate, and how such affect the grape. The differences extend even to the way we choose to rule. I have heard the story, for instance, which I have every reason to believe is perfectly true, that you had, let us say, some difficulty with Jerusalem a few weeks ago. Is it so?'

  'A prefect of Judaea has constant business with

  Jerusalem, Tetrarch. I would hesitate referring to any that I have had so far as having difficulties.'

  'My father dealt with nearly the same problem thirty years ago.'

  'What problem is that?'

  'The Jewish aversion to images. Don't imagine I am suggesting my father's method is superior to your own. I bring it up only to illustrate how the Oriental mind approaches a problem. My father, as you no doubt have heard, was a great friend and ally of Caesar Augustus. Like you, he took offence at Jerusalem's refusal to erect even the most modest of imperial emblems. After finishing the expansion and renovation of the second Temple of Solomon, he decided to place an eagle of pure gold on the outer gate of the Temple compound - the same image your armies place before every legion in the service of the empire.

  'Naturally, as you no doubt did when you erected the imago standard over the great door of the palace, my father anticipated resistance from certain radical elements within the Jewish population. When they came to speak to him about it, however, he simply closed his door, and that was the end of the matter. Such was the nature of my father's character that none - none! - dared to provoke him with a demonstration.'

  'As I recall,' Pilate countered, feeling as he did a regrettable flush of irritation creeping over his face, 'there was some trouble concerning that eagle, or am I mistaken?'

  Antipas smiled as if he had anticipated his opponent. 'A great trouble! But not for Herod. You see when the priests learned that Herod lay on his deathbed, they chose to strike. The idea was sound enough. They understood Herod's successor to Judaea, my half- brother Archaelaus, must respond, but they gambled that the response would be measured, both because the protest had not occurred directly against him and because he might not yet feel secure in his power. Certain of the priests therefore arranged for two athletic young men to be lowered by ropes from the rooftop of the Temple while their companions occupied the attention of Herod's palace guard. It was quick work, the destruction of that eagle. By the time the troops arrived at the gate it was ruined.

  'My father was in such a fury he came from his deathbed and met the criminals in his great hall. He wanted to know if these young men had no fear of him. They answered that their teachers had explained to them that God would grant them eternal life for the service of defending His Temple. Applying torture, Herod learned the names of these teachers and subsequently ordered the students tied to their teachers, that he might burn them simultaneously and so let them partake of the glories of Heaven together. He then ordered the first born of Judaea under a certain age to be caught and killed, for there was a rumor about that a maid had given birth to the Messiah, and he wanted to protect his line. When that was finished, when the streets were washed with blood I should say, he returned to his bed and died peacefully.'

  'Do the Jews then believe in life after death - just as the Romans and Greeks do?' Procula asked. Perhaps, Pilate thought, she did not understand the insult Antipas had delivered. It didn't matter really. Antipas rankled at the irrelevance of her remark and lost some of his satisfaction.

  Herodias smiled at the unconscious effect of the question and answered her. 'The Essenes believe in it as do the Zealots, who are not of any order but unite merely in the service of anarchy. The Pharisees remain ambiguous on the matter, Lady, as on all matters save the Law, while the Sadducees, whose families rule the Temple and own most of the businesses in the city, hold that this life is all that we have.'

  'One might as well be an atheist,' Pilate answered, feeling some outrage at the notion of priests holding such a secular opinion. He knew atheists in Rome, but was himself an initiate of the ancient Eleusinian Mysteries, and therefore trusted that his eternal bliss after death was already arranged.

  Antipas warmed to this new subject immediately. 'In my experience, Prefect, atheists make the best priests.'

  'Are you then an atheist yourself?' Procula asked.

  Herodias, perhaps observing the discomfort of her guests, or simply taking the opportunity of their discomfort, chided her husband gently with the answer she gave for him. 'My husband is an atheist only late at night when the gods sleep and he has drunk himself into oblivion. During the daytime and the early evening hours he honors every superstition known to humankind and even invents a few of his own. Otherwise, it seems to me, he would already have shown the courage of his convictions by arresting the prophet John for his open sedition.'

  'The one they call the Baptist?' Procula asked.

  'The very same. It is not as if he is difficult to find.

  The man stands in the river Jordon every day at the same time and place.'

  'I believe more Jews should follow his example,'Pilate quipped. 'I for one cannot understand their aversion to bathing.'

  'Do you want to know why he hesitates?' Herodias pressed, quite ignoring Pilate's joke. 'Silence!' Antipas roared.

  The chatter in the hall ceased. As Herodias well knew, Antipas had intended his command for only his wife, but she pretended he had silenced the crowd so they could hear her speech, and continued in a fashion that no Roman wife would have dared. 'It is because he fears the man will place a spell upon him if he does. Now I ask you, can an atheist fear the curse of a holy man? Have you ever heard such a thing?'

  'I fear no such thing! John is simply more dangerous as a martyr than he is wandering around in the desert like a fool.'

  'Your father had no such scruples.'

  'The times are different.'

  'As are the men.' Seeing her husband had no response to this, Herodias smiled pleasantly at Procula. 'Antipas believes your husband brought himself trouble with the Jews when he refused to kill ten thousand of them. Isn't it so, Antipas?'

  'I believe an opportunity was missed to set an example, but each man rules differently and for different ends, as I have said.'

  Pilate reached for his wine cup, reminding himself that he was a guest this evening and that this man, no matter how overbearing his insult, enjoyed some kind of friendship with Tiberius. 'I was prepared for disobedience,' he answered, quoting his own letter to Sejanus, which he wrote the morning after the affair. 'Receiving none, nothing at all beyond prayers to their god that I might change my mind, I chose to reward those individuals who petitioned me in a perfectly legal manner rather than set an example of brutality. The difference between East and West, I suppose.'

  'Do you mean to say, Prefect,' Herodias responded with a coyness Pilate found quite pleasant, all things considered, 'you did not fear the ghosts of ten thousand men?'

  Pilate permitted himself a slight smile at his host's expense. He liked this woman far better than her husband! 'I confess, Lady, the thought did not cross my mind.'

  The insult Herod Antipas delivered to him at the banquet stayed with Pilate much longer than it should have. Pilate tried to persuade himself that he was comfortable with his decision to show mercy. It angered him inordinately that Antipas, and certainly others, observed not his reasonableness but mistook it for an unwillingness to rule from a position of strength. He reminded himself what was obvious, that Antipas was insignificant, that Antipas was both brutal as an administrator and cowardly as a man. What mattered was the opinion of Tiberius, not the court gossi
p of a backwater tetrarchy run by a woman in all but name.

  The emperor's opinion was waiting when he returned. Tiberius himself had sent the letter - not Sejanus. Pilate had not been sent to Judaea, he said, to create a war. He had been sent to maintain the peace and collect taxes. Agitating a hostile city made his work more difficult. On the other hand, having stirred resistance the emperor could not celebrate Pilate's choice to stand down without so much as a single arrest. The emperor regretted, he said, the unusual slowness of his response, but he had taken some effort to acquire an objective view before making his judgment.

  The objective view was undoubtedly that of Antipas, Pilate decided after due consideration. Royalty must stick together despite whatever differences they held. In this instance it meant slapping down an equestrian. Well, it illustrated the importance of Antipas, if nothing else.

  'Did you enjoy the company of Herodias?' Pilate asked his wife that evening as they dined alone in their quarters.

  'I found her impertinent, sir. I would not speak to you in private as she spoke to her husband before us. I do not see how Antipas can stand it.'

  'I should like it very much if the two of you became friends.'

  Procula studied him from her reclining position at their dining table.