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V Sixth day before the Nones of Martius. Fourth hour of the night. [Friday, March 2, c. 9:00 p.m.] When Florentina came in this morning, I told her to send her daughter to me directly. Sperata came in with her hair already taken up with combs. Latona had also given her some of her own perfume. I did not remark on her getting herself out like a Subura streetwalker. Instead I instructed her, "If Senator L. V-- approaches you in any fashion, you must tell me. At once. If he even looks at you, I must know. Do you understand who this man is?" "Yes, mistress." "No. You don't know at all. This man's profession is trouble-making. He is expert at the deception and destruction of the innocent. Do you understand?" "I understand, mistress." Of course she does not understand.
I spent the morning reading Posidinus, although with little progress. He remarks that the souls of virtuous men inhabit the stars upon their deaths, and so are able to influence us for the better. The wicked dead are born again. Reason does not support the latter assumption. After not many generations, only the wicked would inhabit this world. It is sufficient curse upon the living that their malignant shades must dwell among us. At the eighth hour, as Latona was giving me my massage, Pilate entered the bath without announcement. Latona covered me with a sheet and retired to the dressing room. I asked him what was so urgent that it required foregoing civility. "I want to know what happened with Caiaphas' lawyer." I had entirely put that aside. Yet I had nothing to invent. "I was certain he would make a fuss if I sent him away directly, and certain he would invent some slander or insult if I saw him alone. So I brought in the secretaries and refused his suggestion that they leave. Marcellus Vibius understood his situation and departed without speaking." "And he said nothing as to what he wished to discuss?" "Nothing." I thought this had concluded our discussion. But after a moment Pilate said, "Do you know the name 'B'nai-Zadok?'" "Sons of Zadok? Nothing whatever. Is it some sort of Jew sect?" "I don't know. The name goes about among the Jews. Most say it's a fable, a secret fraternity that once existed and no longer does. Something like Bar Abba. Now I have an informant -- one whom I trust -- who says these men are still active. Or have again become active. Most of them are descended from priests and officers in the old Hasmonean dynasty -- those who weren't purged by Herod. They've held on to some of their land and money, but absent any seats in the Sanhedrin, they have little influence. Their abiding purpose, I am told, is to remove Caiaphas and his cronies and reclaim the offices their people held before Herod started chopping their heads off." "Are you suggesting that Caiaphas' lawyer came to me to speak about the Sons of Zadok?" "Not directly. But perhaps Caiaphas is sufficiently concerned that he'd like to put relations on better footing." "You would trust Caiaphas? If you aren't convinced that Caiaphas brought the crowd down on us at the Pesah, then you are the last man in Judea to have doubts." "That Pesah is done with. The coming Pesah is my concern. And I would prefer to come to some accommodation with Caiaphas beforehand. Particularly as Caesar is likely to have his own witness present." "L.V--? Do you assume that he will come to Jerusalem for the festival?" "I would say so." "But surely Caesar could have sent a freedman to witness a riot, if that's what he expects." "No. In L. V--, Caesar has a witness whose judgement he trusts entirely. And a witness who could take command of my cohorts if he determines that I cannot manage the situation." "Caesar's letter doesn't give him that authority. Your tribunes would laugh at it." "It's possible that Caesar has given him a second letter -- a grant of imperium, to use at his discretion. Perhaps he intends to withhold it until he can invent some charges against me. You know how Caesar insists on the law." "I don't believe he's been given imperium. If he has come here to invent charges, he'll take them back to Capri. If he intended to arrest you, wouldn't he have brought more than four legbreakers and a few soldiers on that bireme?" "I would imagine he has sufficient soldiers on that galley. If he uses them astutely." "Nonsense. He's come here as you suggested. To witness the Pesah. To remind you that Caesar is watching. To satisfy the Jews that Caesar is listening to their complaints. As your mother says, to meddle. Then he will sail off and we will be done with Senator L. V--." Pilate said nothing, convincing me that he had only presented his gloomy forecast in order to hear from another voice his own argument against it. I rested my head on the couch. Then he said: "In any event I must prepare for this Pesah with the means available. I want you to go to Erginus' house this evening. He's having a banquet. His Sabbath crowd." "What is he brokering?" "B'nai Zadok." "Erginus is your informant?" "He claims he'll have a Jew there who has a connection to them. And he believes he can persuade this Jew to talk to us." "If you want this accommodation with Caiaphas, is it wise to meet with his opponents? You risk antagonizing him -- and this at a time when Caesar may have tied your hands." "We're risking nothing this evening. Erginus merely wants this Jew to know that we have an interest. Your presence will prove that to their satisfaction." "Do you have a message for this Jew?" "No. Let them speak first. You needn't do more than exchange greetings with him. I've told Erginus you won't be dining. You'll arrive after they've started drinking and stay in the upstairs galleries." He understood my silence as agreement. After instructing me that my litter and escort would be ready by the eleventh hour, he left.
So I went to Erginus's house at the appointed hour. I brought Latona as my attendant. (Sperata did not attempt to wheedle this position -- I presume she has some delusion that L. V-- will send for her. I told Florentina that I would hold her accountable for any trouble regarding her daughter.) The streets were mobbed as usual with Jews and their servants, all finishing their errands in advance of the Sabbath trumpet. But the traffic and the racket of the wagons were excessively onerous this evening -- one might have been in Rome. The drought has occasioned so much sand and dust that even the curtains could not keep the grit out of my eyes and teeth. Erginus' musicians could be heard from the end of the street. His gatekeeper smelled like a wine-jar. There is something new in Erginus' sitting room: Set on a stand, an immense black and orange mixing bowl decorated with scenes of an orgy that progresses (as one walks about it) from mere fellatio to the acrobatics of three men attended by a single woman. Latona examined this ornament with predictable interest. Erginus met us in the sitting room. His health appears to have improved -- he has recovered some of the function on the afflicted side of his face. He no longer requires a servant at his arm and can walk with a staff. He greeted me with the excess of old, his speech having become considerably more rapid: "Excellent lady!" et cetera. He snapped his fingers at his chamberlain and offered his selection of wines: Surrentum, dry Alban, Hattulim, Ammonite, Chios, et cetera. He added, "A sweet Alban that is unusually pleasant," meaning that it is drugged. From these I choose Surrentum, well-watered. He said, "This evening you'll want to be upstairs." I nodded. Erginus escorted me to the staircase and struggled up before me. We went past the slaves' rooms to the gallery. Through the wooden screen I could see across the peristyle and into the dining hall. The dining hall resembled a tavern during the Floralia, clouded with smoke from the braziers and elbow-to-elbow with Erginus' guests and their attending servants, prostitutes, and musicians. Nevertheless, they had provided space for five girls (naked save for leather halters and their clapping cymbals) who spun an Iberian dance. Erginus sat beside me. "Everyone's curious about the men who came on that bireme. Rumor says that the ship sailed from Capri, with a Senator making the crossing." I offered no objection to this theory. My silence merely allowed Erginus to confirm what he already knows. He continued: "You should know what I'm hearing from some of the connected Jews. They say Caesar has sent a Senatorial commissioner to give Pilate a flogging for the riot last year. And while he's here, to look over our Prefect's shoulder at this year's Pesah. While I would never suggest that the semi-divine Caesar has erred, perhaps someone less reverent than myself would say he's made a mistake sending this Senator now, for whatever reason. This isn't the time to give the Jews any reason to believe that Pilate no longer has Caesar's confidence." "Do you hear that there will more trouble for us at this festival?" "You should expect it. I'm told the rabble-rousers are busy this year. They've been in all the villages. They're telling the tenant-farmers and the day-workers to prepare for a big stir at the Pesah." "A protest?" With half his face, he made a shrugging expression. "Perhaps something to do with Yom Adonai. Do you know the expression?" "I've heard it now and then. What does it say? Their god's day?" "Yes. The day of Adonai. The day the Jews' god will come to bring the dead out of Hades, put the rich on trial, and give every wandering wretch a mansion with a pantry that's never empty. Needless to say, the Jews who already live in Upper City mansions don't encourage this superstition. Of course you can always find some leprous idiot posted at the Temple gate, ranting to his fellow dung-haulers that they'll soon see the chariots of the mighty nameless one and the bones of dead beggars made into kings. In ordinary times no-one listens. But I'm told that once in a generation the poor country Jews become convinced that this fable will become fact. And when they do, there's always trouble." "And they expect that Yom Adonai will take place at the time of this Pesah?" "Not necessarily. Most likely the rabble will be content with a portent. Something to prove that their god means to do his business soon. A sign." "What will this sign be?" "That's a bit obscure. It's possible there will be more than one. This drought is taken by some as a sign. The position of the stars another. Then you have this business with Herod Antipas' friend Joakanen. Joakanen the Immerser." "The man who staged the protests against Antipas' marriage? We're told that Aretas owned him." "That's Antipas' fiction, now that he sees what he's made of him. Alive, this man Joakanen was a vagrant who did little more than convince the mob to run naked into rivers and listen to his abracadabra about Yom Adonai. True, he made a stir when Antipas sent Aretas' daughter home -- that's where the business about him being an agent got started. But he was simply a spell-binder standing on trash piles. Only a nitwit like Antipas couldn't have seen that killing him would only make him a prophet. Now there's a dozen beggars who claim to carry the murdered man's demon and speak with his voice -- they've come out of Perea and Galilee and are all over Judea as well. You see how these things start. Soon enough they can't be stopped." "Until our cohorts must stop them. We always inherit another man's trouble." Erginus leaned closer to me. "That's where I see your opportunity. The rabble waiting for Yom Adonai have no more affection for rich Jews than they do for you Romans. Of course they don't even regard Herod Antipas as a Jew, his father and mother both being questionable as far as they're concerned -- he's just some pagan who cuts off the heads of their holy men. They save their particular wrath for their own high priests, believing as they do -- and not without cause -- that Caiaphas and his cronies in the Sanhedrin are thieves who have stolen their land and homes. And they could just as easily be moved to protest against Caiaphas as they could be persuaded to riot against Pilate." "We've never succeeded in buying the leaders of the crowd. You know how often we've made the attempt." "You haven't located the proper broker. You must find someone to buy this crowd for you." "I presume you have this broker." "Perhaps. I don't say this man you will meet is that man. I don't say for certain that B'nai Zadok exist. And they may exist only to shield the men who are behind them. You can be certain of nothing with these people. But whenever the poor riot, there's always rich men stirring it up. At the last Pesah it was Caiaphas and his people. I believe that at this Pesah, B'nai-Zadok -- or whoever is behind them -- will be the rich men in the middle of the crowd." "But you have nothing to prove the connection." "The rabble-rousers going to the villages are getting their way made by someone. Bandits won't touch them. It's said that Bar Abba himself clears the road for them." "Bar Abba is a fable." "I would respectfully disagree with you on that, excellent lady. If you have even one cutthroat out there who claims to be Bar Abba, then he exists. Better still if you have three. Or a dozen. The same is true of these impostors who say they speak with Joakanen's voice. We know the hyenas have his bones. But in the villages, he's still alive." "So you believe that these people have the support of the fraternity of cutthroats. How does that bring them to B'nai Zadok?" "I don't know that it does. Perhaps B'nai Zadok has bribed bandits to protect all these Joakanen impostors. Perhaps the connection is only between the bandits and Joakanen's people. I do know this: These Joakanen people often stay in the homes of wealthy men. I needn't say, men who aren't sitting on the Sanhedrin. Men who sometimes have Hasmonean friends." I was unconvinced and said only for argument, "Let us assume B'nai Zadok exist. And they indeed own the mob. What payment would they require to broker the crowd for us?" Before he answered this question, Erginus gestured toward the dining hall. The dancers had stopped. Some boys rushed about placing linen carpets on the pavement just outside the dining hall, in front of the peristyle pool. "I have a magus this evening," he said. "You should stay and watch." He returned to our subject: "The price of the crowd? I expect these people would ask you to give them the office of High Priest." "We can remove Caiaphas only if Caesar permits it." "Of course. I only say that they will ask. In the end they are likely to settle for other considerations." "What 'other considerations'?" "Some of the trade concessions that the priests have locked up and put away for themselves. Perhaps also some water rights. The opportunity to buy foreclosed properties." "And what considerations will the crowd receive?" He shrugged. "They will still have their mighty nameless god. And their blind certainty that on his day he will raise them up on the heads of the rich." "So who is this Jew here tonight?" "His name is Eban ben Onias. The family is from Jericho. They're balsam growers. We were introduced by a wholesaler in Joppa. When I heard a bit more about him, it occurred to me that he might profit from a connection with your husband -- and that your husband might profit from a connection with him. But he's very cautious. He's told me nothing except that he can possibly convey a message to B'nai-Zadok. Even that agreement almost vanished when your Senator arrived." Erginus paused and looked toward the slave quarters. A servant signaled him from the hall. He excused himself and went to the man. The boys entered the peristyle again and began to set censers and braziers all about the carpets. By the time Erginus returned to me, they had begun lighting them. Erginus said, "We should go to Eban ben Onias. He wants this done so that he can be on his way before the Sabbath trumpets blow. With your permission, this is what's been arranged: He'll be in the sitting room, at the far end when we enter. He'll come close enough that he can recognize you if you meet him again. If he decides to talk, he'll nod and we'll approach. It's possible he won't talk. As I said, that black galley in the harbor has him in a state. But at the least he'll leave knowing that Pilate is serious about dealing." Erginus pointed in the air to emphasize. "And that will bring him back." So we went down to the sitting room. As Erginus had said, Eban ben Onias stood at the far end of the room, near the great mixing bowl -- he paid no attention to the orgy painted upon it. He wore a rich Jew's stripped coat, with a silk girdle. His hair and beard are cropped close in our fashion. But he has the dark face of a desert-dweller, with many creases. I would guess he is Pilate's age, perhaps older. He is not tall, but he is robust. Evidently he had not dined there, because his hair was not oiled. For a time he did not make any motion at all. Then he came several steps forward. His eyes narrowed as though fixing every feature of my face. Strangely, I did not believe he was remembering my face in the event that we meet again. Instead, it seemed that he had seen me somewhere previously and wished to establish beyond doubt that I was Pilate's wife. His eyes went to Erginus. They are dark eyes, the whites vivid against his face. Then, so quickly that he might have intended to attack us, he walked past and exited the door. Erginus' smile caught at the corner of his mouth. It was a consequence of his palsy, yet it appeared as though his own doubts seized his face. "Now you have seen Eban ben Onias, and he has seen you. I would say this is a good beginning. This kind of business is best done with a cautious man." He then asked if I would stay for the amusements. Knowing that there were no additional burdens for me at Erginus' house, and more than enough waiting for me here, I did so.
I asked for a full cup of the sweet Alban, expecting that the drug would calm me. Not wanting to disturb Erginus' guests, I returned to the gallery. The peristyle was obscured with the fog produced by the braziers and censers. I could scarcely see the carpets beneath the haze. Abruptly the music of the pipes and drums below me ceased. A bearded man, though with the slender stature of a beardless youth, walked within the scented fog. He wore a tunic that he might have taken from a beggar. After a moment, he filled the silence with chants, half the words in Aramaic and half in some nonsense language. His voice, which was high yet strong, resounded in the peristyle. It was strangely entrancing. From my vantage I could see the girls run across the pool -- certainly in the dining hall they could not. They emerged like naked shades from the smoke. The bearded beggar waved his arms and seemingly snatched from the air a water jar. It was full, as we saw when its contents were poured over the head and naked shoulders of one of the girls. She wrapped her arms around herself, perhaps miming cold, but doing so as elegantly as if she were miming a flower folding in on itself. Whereupon the beggar put his arms around her, touching her everywhere like a lover, and thus unfolding her again. This amatory mime was repeated with the other two girls. While it was performed, I observed several confederates crawling through the pool, some carrying parcels. What these parcels were and for what purpose they were intended, I could not discern. A second man -- the magus, it became apparent -- rushed into the smoke. He was attired in a purple tunic with a gold border. He pointed savagely at the bearded beggar. The beggar silently denounced him in return, bobbing his head as though spitting, and likewise pointing angrily. While he did so a third man, attired like a soldier, came unseen from behind him, threatening the beggar with a raised sword. The beggar came closer to the magus, pointing at his mouth. With great quickness the magus reached into his mouth and drew out an immense black snake, throwing it at once into the dining hall. The guests gave out startled screams. The screams did not cease with that trick. At almost the same instant as the snake flew into the air, the soldier brought his sword sweeping about. Even having witnessed the construction of the fraud, I was seized with utter horror at the illusion I beheld. The sword severed the head like a gourd from a vine. Blood shot into the air and no reasonable witness would have denied he saw the stump of the beggar's neck before his body tumbled to the pavement. The executioner fled. The magus raised his arms in triumph. After this celebration he snapped his fingers and the soldier returned as a servant. He carried a small table covered with a cloth. The magus plunged his hands into the murk and drew up the severed head. It had the features of the beggar but the pallor of a corpse. He placed it on the table. Suddenly he reached toward the dining hall and brought a cup flying into his hand. He did not pour wine from the cup. Instead it was full of glistening oil, with which he anointed the severed head. This done, he opened the apparently lifeless mouth, reached in and drew out a handful of small snakes; these he flung away. He then began to chant in the fashion we had heard earlier. Finally, he displayed for all a gold coin the size of a denarius. This he placed in the gaping mouth of the severed head -- I presume beneath the tongue. Almost at once the severed head cried out clearly in Greek: "Come Xanthicus hail will destroy three villages in the Shephelah! Come Artemisius a ship will founder at Joppa and two times hundred will perish! Come Lous the earth will shake at Ephesus!" These predictions were followed by a long silence. I became aware of the drug. As will happen, time seemed drawn out to an absurd length. I heard the plaint of the Sabbath horn and afterward the sighing of the waves against the harbor mole. The sky darkened. This occurred not in subtle stages but at once, a colored glass placed before my eyes. The magus began to chant. Closing my eyes, I could now hear his strange words so clearly that they might have been spoken with great deliberation into my ear. These names conjured a procession of fantastic demons and deities, all within the theater of mind. "You may offer him questions." I opened my eyes, only then understanding that the magus had not spoken to me alone, but had addressed the guests in the dining hall. Many of them wrote on tablets to which they applied their own seals. The servants stacked them and brought them to the magus. He removed a single tablet from the stack and touched it to the brow of the severed head. Shortly the head announced: "This man from Antioch clips coins and his freedman always has a finger on the scales." The questions were answered in this fashion until the stacks of tablets were done with: "He should not sail from Alexandria until Gorpiaeus." "He has gone with a Samaritan woman who will bear him a child with a mark on his face." "They will purchase a hundred asses for transport to the Pesah." "She will be barren until the sabbatical year." From time to time these answers were greeted with hand-clapping or shouts of surprise. While this demonstration continued, Erginus came to me again. His oiled hair gleamed like silver. "He's very skilled," Erginus said. "I didn't offer him a list of my guests. I believe he had his people watch my house and follow my boys to see where they brought the invitations. Then he acquires information about the guests, with which he instructs his associate. She is a woman, by the way -- the beard is false. He reads the seals, and when he taps the forehead, he communicates a number which identifies the guest. Of course the question which that particular guest has asked is not usually answered. But a question which that guest might have asked is often answered. No-one is disappointed, and many believe." A boy brought me more sweet Alban. Erginus tapped me on the arm with his finger. "He has powers as well. When I was ill, my freedman, Cleanthes, took advantage of the situation. He purchased cinnamon in Damascus, then accounted it lost between there and here. No-one in my household could tell me anything. So I asked this magus -- Simon is his name -- about it. He said, 'You will find it in a warehouse in Sepphoris.' After I took this information to Cleanthes, he confessed. He had indeed kept the cinnamon at Sepphoris, not in a warehouse, but in a basement. Close enough." He tapped my arm again. "If you have a question, ask him. He can also give you visions, if you submit to his abracadabra. I know a tax-farmer in Sebaste who says Simon choked the life out of him and blew it back in again, and in between showed him everything there is in the stars and under the earth. He says it's something you mustn't miss. I told him, 'With my health I'll see it soon enough, and until then I'm content to live without it.'" Their fraudulent divination at last concluded, the magus and his associates vanished into the smoke. I saw them creep across the pool into the house. The boys ran to put out the censers. The guests rose from their couches and began to come out of the dining hall. Erginus excused himself, saying, "Of course you know you are welcome anywhere in my house. I shouldn't think you'll be observed if you move about discretely. As I may not see you subsequently, accept my gratitude at this time," et cetera. I remained in the gallery, entranced by the stars. They appeared to breathe, expanding and contracting, at first singly, then as one organism -- the living body of the deity. At last I went downstairs. Most of the lamps had been put out. Those that remained were dimmed by the lingering smoke. Laughter came from some distant part of the house. In the dining hall a man lay behind a woman, his hands upon her breasts. They had drawn their tunics up about their hips. Their bodies moved like a single snake. A woman appeared in the peristyle as though conjured. She walked quickly past me, her ankle bracelets chiming. Within the fishnet haze of her dress her white body glowed. I went into the corridor that joins the sleeping rooms. The purple curtains of the cubicles appeared to move as if in a breeze. I imagined I heard every stirring behind them. A small bedroom -- a mere alcove for a servant's bed -- had not been closed off. Within it I saw a woman's naked back, a trembling white arch rising over her lover. I watched them until I was startled with the awareness that I was also watched. The magus stood at the end of the hall. He smiled wickedly. With his hands he motioned before his face. By some agency he crossed the distance between us without appearing to have walked. His beard seemed real enough, but he was quite a young man, with effeminate features. His hair was drenched in oil. He whispered as though echoing the sighing waves. "I can show you the heaven of heavens. I can show you a scroll with the events of your entire life written on it, what has been and what is to be." He extended a hand so pale and slender that it might have been a shade's hand. When he touched me I could scarcely feel it. "I can blow a spirit into you. A spirit who will teach you the secrets of a thousand lives." In Rome I might have accepted with little hesitation. At last I offered, "I have had sufficient amusement this evening." I went out to the reception hall and sent for Latona and my escort. When I had established that Erginus was nowhere to be found, I departed at once.
The streets had emptied. From time to time I distantly heard the sounds of Sabbath celebrations in the houses of the Jews -- the harps, pipes, and clapping. I opened the curtains of my litter and looked out. We passed the houses and workshops of Jew craftsmen, a poor neighborhood, the Sabbath candles in every window flickering sadly. We entered the blocks of Syrian tenements near the warehouses. Here there were no candles in the windows. I looked into the alleys as we passed them. There seemed a terrible mystery about them. Then, passing yet another, all at once I imagined that I saw into it, as though for an instant it had been illuminated by a white burst of lightning. Without thinking I called for my bearers to stop. The decurion in charge of my escort came to me with his torch. I climbed out to meet him. "What is it, lady?" "I saw something in there." Yet I had no idea what I had seen. I only knew that I could not leave. I thought very clearly: This is an emanation the magus imparted to me. Perhaps when he looked at me. Perhaps when he touched me. "What did you see, lady?" "We must go in there." I could see he considered opposing me. Then he walked ahead of me into the alley. Absent rain to flush it, it reeked like a latrine. Within it I could hear the waves more clearly than I could on the street. They seemed like thunder. The walls of the tenements on either side were bare brick, the plaster having fallen from them. The hair stood at my neck. I thought: I know this place. I have seen it a dream. I had a vision of it when I held the little Syrian girl. Fate has a purpose for me here. "Go on farther," I told the decurion. To myself: I will find the graffiti I saw on that wall. It will tell me what I have come here to find. I did not find that graffiti. Instead I heard, as vaguely as the cry of a distant bird, an infant's cry. And at once I knew. "Get all the escort," I told the decurion. "They must search this alley entirely. All the stairwells. There is an abandoned child here. An infant exposed just after her birth. Her mother has put her out." Perhaps he was relieved to find some reason for my strange insistence. He did not hesitate to get his people. Four men with torches went up and down that alley. Latona came and stood by me. I was so entirely convinced of the presence of that child that I demanded a second search when the first produced nothing. When that search failed I took a torch myself. I went up the filthy path and thrust my torch into a stairwell. I saw an infant's swaddling and was certain I had found what the others had missed. Then I saw only shards of broken pottery and the remnants of a straw mattress with a tattered cover. I could hear only the faint spitting of the flame. To my utter horror, I became ill. My head spun as I bent over and retched. I believe I did not faint only because of the force with which I vomited. The earth seemed to roll beneath me. Latona came to me and held me so that I would not fall. I do not remember being assisted to my litter. Yet by the time we passed the warehouses I knew the neighborhood and could regard my reason as entirely restored.
When I arrived here I was told that Pilate waited for me, even though the third hour of the night had begun. I washed my face and rinsed my mouth with neat wine. He was in the observatory upstairs, sitting in a chair by the large window facing the sea. In his lap he held a closed tablet. The only light was provided by a brazier. I knew that Pilate had been with someone not long before -- the scent of Cosmian perfume was in the room. After a moment I remembered that L. V--'s secretary had worn too much of it. With his stylus Pilate pointed to the stars. "My mother's astrologer showed me this tonight. Five planets follow the sun into the sea. One could draw a single line through them." He drew his stylus through the air, echoing that line. Then he said, "Tell me about Erginus's Jew." I recited exactly what Erginus had told me, and recounted the brief and wordless meeting with Eban ben Onias. For a time after I had finished, Pilate tapped his stylus against his tablet. After which he said, "Erginus is correct. We will see his Jew again." He left his chair, placed his tablet on the table, and stood before me. "I've decided to go to Jerusalem tomorrow. I'll leave before dawn." "That's rather abrupt." "I would have left by the first of the week regardless. And I want to take advantage of the roads. I don't believe this dry spell will last much longer." "What will you do with Senator L. V--? Will he go with you?" "No. I've already informed his secretary that I've been called there on urgent business." Thus I learned the purpose of the meeting I had detected by scent. "Might our guest consider himself abandoned?" "Caesar didn't ask that I chain my wrist to his. I have staff to attend to his requirements, whenever he decides to inform us what they are." "Perhaps you are too eager to make an enemy of him." "He hasn't come here to embrace me." With scarcely a pause Pilate added: "I want you to get your own people ready to leave by the day after tomorrow." "That is a week earlier than we had expected." "It shouldn't present a problem. I'm also going to inform Senator L. V-- that he can come up with your party if he wishes." "Do you expect me to conduct him all the way to Jerusalem?" "My people will take responsibility for him. But perhaps it's an opportunity for you to learn something from him." Again he scarcely paused: "Was he your lover at Baiae?" "No." "But your stepmother intended it." "I assume she did." "What did she want from him?" "Obviously the connection to Tiberius. The summer that L. V-- was in my father's house, Augustus was dying. He had already sealed his will. It was certain Tiberius would succeed him. Even so, there was sufficient scandal about L. V-- to make him unsuitable to most people of his own class. Of course that did not make him unsuitable to Metilia. Perhaps she hoped he would leap from my bed to hers." He made no expression. Yet his entire face appeared seized with some imminence, as though he might erupt into rage or laughter. "Did you drink tonight?" "You can see me. Do I appear drunk?" "You appear opiated." "Then I should sleep." I turned and went to the door. I was surprised to reach the door before he reached me. His voice shot fear through me like an arrow. Yet he spoke almost with sadness: "You don't understand the seriousness of our situation, do you?" I did not turn. "I believe I do. A man in your position does not simply drift downward. If you are removed from this office, there will be a prosecution and exile to some rock in the Aegean. In that event I would not expect to escape prosecution and the same punishment. And regardless, it is my property that would be confiscated." I could feel him approach. Even so, I was not prepared for his fingers on my neck. I cringed from his touch. "You have a new toy for that," I told him. "Or is she still innocent of your particular interests?" He pressed against me. He stroked my neck. His words were cold in my ear: "You think we will be prosecuted and exiled? If we fail here, we will get the noose." With his fingers he exerted pressure, increasing it until I gave him a single gasp. Then he unlatched the door, pushed me into the hall, and shut the door behind me without a word. I believe he has become obsessed with the idea that L. V-- will ruin him. It is his habit to entertain such thoughts. I came here and made this, despite the hour. Still I am afraid of sleep. I recall Mother telling us how Florentina was found. How she was left inside our gate a month after I was born. "They left her there for you." I can remember as clearly as life the voice in which she always told me that. Florrie was not the abandoned child who cried in the darkness tonight. The rest of it is only the memory of an obscene dream. |
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What happened at the previous year's Pesah? The Pesah, or Passover, was celebrated annually by more than
100,00 pilgrims at the Jerusalem Temple. Although this festival observed the
deliverance of the Jews from Pharaoh, for
most first-century Jews it had come to represent the hope of deliverance from Caesar. At
the Pesah of 30 A.D., Jews numbering in the tens of thousands had
rioted against Pilate's confiscation of Temple funds to build an
aqueduct; Pilate had responded with typically savage crowd control
measures, killing many. Given Tiberius' angry reaction to Pilate's
previous, far less lethal provocations of his Jewish subjects, Pilate
had good reason to fear for his job.
Why was the issue of imperium important to Pilate? Imperium, the supreme judicial and military power
held by the Roman Emperors, was ostensibly voted them by the Senate
(thus preserving the fiction that the Caesars ruled at the Senate's
invitation).
The Emperor and Senate also had the power to grant imperium
to provincial governors, enabling them to exercise the absolute
authority of Caesar and the Senate at their discretion. However,
a Prefect of equestrian rank, such as Pilate, operated under a mandatum,
a letter of instructions issued by Caesar, and did not enjoy the
much greater latitude of imperium. What role did a Roman provincial administrator's wife typically play in her husband's official business? This was a controversial issue at the time. In 21 A.D.
the Roman Senate debated at length a proposal to forbid the wives
of provincial governors to go abroad with their husbands. The
sponsor of the legislation complained that one wife had gone so
far as to conduct drills involving entire legions; many wives functioned
almost as co-governors, and all were targets of bribery. The
measure was soundly defeated, and obviously Pilate's wife's participation
in her husband's business was accepted as useful and routine. However,
we observe her care not to assume too much autonomy.
Was it customary for a Roman wife to go out unattended by her husband? Roman women enjoyed a degree of emancipation unprecedented in
the ancient world: It was acceptable for them to dine in the
company of men; go out freely, even to such disreputable venues
as the theater and baths; and own property separate from their husbands.
But Roman women had no rights whatsoever to their children,
who in the event of divorce always remained in the custody of their
fathers.
Who was Joakanen the Immerser? Almost certainly the man known to the New Testament as John
the Baptist, who called on Jews to repent their sins and prepare for the "day
of the Lord" by going into the wilderness and receiving baptism
in the Jordan River, as a sign they had cleansed themselves of sin;
Jesus almost certainly participated in this rite and immediately
afterward received the Spirit (pneuma) -- which might
have been regarded as a demon by both the more and less credulous.
According to Josephus, John was so popular among the people
that Herod Antipas, fearing an uprising, imprisoned him in his fortress
at Macherus, where John was executed around 30 A.D. In the
New Testament, John is executed for opposing Herod Antipas' remarriage
to his half-brother's wife. Jesus acknowledges John's spiritual
leadership in Luke 16.16, a gospel saying widely regarded as
authentic: "The law and the prophets were until John: since
that time the kingdom of God is preached, and every man presses
into it." Jesus, like many Jews of his day, saw John as the
harbinger of the imminent end of time, when God would
defeat evil and establish His Kingdom on earth as in heaven. The
entire section Part Two: The Sources in the appendix offers a
concise literary history of this politically-charged belief
in the coming of the Kingdom of God. For a detailed discussion of John the
Baptist and his ministry, see Knowing Only the Baptism of John in the appendix.
Who were these bandits? "Bandit" as used here is the usual English translation
(brigand is an alternative) of the Greek term lestes, which
was often used
in the New Testament and in the works of Flavius Josephus. The lestes
was no mere thief, but was often regarded as a guerilla or freedom
fighter in a loosely structured campaign of harassment --usually
in the form of highway robbery -- against the Romans and their wealthy
Jewish collaborators; in that sense first-century bandits might
be considered Jewish Robin Hoods. Most of the "popular
kings" -- messiahs -- mentioned in Josephus' histories were
lestes whose bands of highwaymen provided the nucleus of
peasant armies; virtually all of the Jews crucified by the Romans
were also lestes. In the gospels, Jesus is executed
between two lestes, and the man allegedly released in place
of him, Barabbas (the Greek form of the Hebrew name Bar Abba), was
also a lestes, specifically identified as having led an insurrection.
The placard "king of the Jews" placed on Jesus'
cross would have been the typical condemnation of a bandit-king.
The bandit-kings are discussed more fully in The Bandit Kings and
In the Company of Bandits in the appendix.
What was a magus? In first century Rome, magus referred to any practitioner of
Persian magic, which included astrological forecasts, divination,
dream interpretation, and healing by magical remedies. The
term was derived from magoi, the Persian Zoroastrian priests
who transmitted much of this arcane knowledge to the Hellenistic
world. The magi were held in both high repute and fearful
scorn in first century Rome. Pliny the elder denounced them
as frauds; Nero summoned them to learn their secrets. They
were generally more highly regarded in the eastern Mediterranean.
The magi who visit the infant Jesus, guided by the stars,
are certainly of the type; although the New Testament infancy narratives
are extremely suspect, the affirming role of the magi suggests their
prestige among first century audiences.
Who was Simon? Possibly this Simon was the best-known magus of Jesus' time, Simon Magus, active in Samaria at the same time Jesus was preaching in Galilee. In marked parallels to Jesus, Simon Magus raised the dead, commanded demons, and claimed to possess the "Great Power of God." However, according to the New Testament Book of Acts (8.9-24), Simon Magus was so impressed with the powers of the apostle Philip that he received baptism in the name of Jesus; later, witnessing the "laying on of the apostles' hands [by which] the Holy Ghost was given," Simon offered the apostles money to acquire the power, for which he was sternly rebuked by Peter. Evidently the point of this episode was to illustrate the fundamental difference between the very similar techniques of the apostles and a magus. The significant role of magic in Jesus's ministry is discussed
in The Mystery of the Kingdom in the appendix.
What does "blow a spirit into you" mean? This spirit (pneuma) and the process of "blowing"
it into someone is perhaps similar to that mentioned in John 20:21-22,
where the resurrected Jesus tells his disciples: "'As my Father has sent me, even so I send you.'
And he breathed on
them and said unto them, 'Receive the Holy Spirit (pneuma).'"
The Greek pneuma, always translated from the New Testament
as "Holy Spirit" or "Holy Ghost", is equivalent
to the Old Testament Hebrew ruach, which offers a host of
similar connotations: soul, breath of God, the great wind of God
that moved across the primordial waters, the vital force or holy
spirit. This spirit was a potent concept in pagan and Jewish beliefs
centuries before it became a component of the Christian Trinity.
Was this marriage unusually void of romance? Like most upper-class Roman women, Pilate's wife did not expect
love in her marriage, and romance as we know it would have baffled
her. Ovid's Art of Love (Ars Amatoria), wildly
popular with early-first-century audiences, advises men to woo with
false promises and physical force; a woman should keep her wig straight
and assume the position in intercourse most flattering to her body
type. It should not surprise us, then, to find an emotional
astringency among upper-class Roman women. |
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It was customary at a formal banquet to anoint the heads of
male diners with fragrant oils.