The Eighth Veil (14 page)
“He remains in the palace with nothing much to do. He visits, chats, casts the stones with the other men.”
“If you can, follow him if he slips away. If the Greek is sequestered in the basement, the servant will surely know and will be in contact with him.”
“I will or one of us will. Most everyone knows I am assigned to you and so will be wary if I come too close, but there is a man in the kitchen who visits the basement from time to time. He will be less noticeable if the Greek’s servant is to be followed.”
“Very good. See to it. Now, Barak, it is time for us to do some searching of our own.”
“For the Greek?”
“No, the guards will do that.”
“What are we looking for then?”
“Answers, Barak, answers.”
“Barak, which name shall we use when we interrogate the other servants do you think, Alexandra or Cappo?”
“They will know her as Cappo. If you ask after Alexandra, you will only get a blank stare.”
“Will I? I wonder. What are the chances she confided to one of the other servants? Girls are given to sharing confidences with friends. At least that is what I have been told.”
“You may be right, but how will we know?”
“Wait and see. Perhaps if we drop the name in casually. Are we there yet?”
“Around this last corner. The servants will be coming and going during the day. We would have better luck at night when things are less demanding.”
“Maybe, but I want to catch them unawares. I want to limit the cross talk. And we will not be interviewing anyone right away. I asked Chuzas to put the girl’s things together in a safe place. He tells me they are in the care of someone named Nathan.”
“They were. No more. Nathan is superstitious. Because the girl was murdered and, he assumed her not to be a believer, he feared the goods could be possessed by the spirits of death. It is fortunate he is so convinced because he is also a thief and otherwise would have taken the lot and sold it all by now.”
“That is monstrous, but fortunate for us. Understand this, Barak, the forces of darkness may lurk in the hearts of men but not, I assure you, in their clothing. Besides, the girl may not have been observant, but I am quite certain she was of the faith. So, who has the goods now?”
“Minna, my wife, has them hidden in our quarters.”
“Excellent. Take me to Minna, then.”
Minna met them at the entryway of the quarters they shared with their widowed daughter and an old woman who would be called a hag by the younger members of the king’s staff, but definitely not to her face. She had, Gamaliel decided, the most terrifying expression he’d ever encountered. He prepared himself to be verbally attacked. It did not happen. When the old lady spoke, it was with the softest voice he’d experience in years, marred only by the ragged gutturals that are the inevitable marks of age. Her relationship to Barak went into aunts and cousins of some degrees of separation that Gamaliel did not try to sort out. He would overlook the fierceness of her face.
“You have the dead girl’s things, your husband tells me.”
“I do. I cannot guarantee they are all here. The others, the young people, you know, picked through them as soon as they heard the news of her death. It is what we do, I am sorry to say, but servants have little and receive less, so property left by the dead is considered communal. The king’s steward came with a palace guard and demanded the things be returned, but I do not think everything found its way back home.”
“Well, let’s have a look at what did come back.” Minna bent and retrieved a small bundle from under the couch where the old lady sat staring balefully at the proceedings. No wonder Barak said they were in a safe place. Who would dare face up to this old lioness? Minna opened the bundle and spread the contents on the floor at their feet.
“Is there anything in particular you are looking for?”
Gamaliel scratched absently at his beard. “Barak, you said you saw her once in the court reading a letter. Is it in with her things?”
Barak spread the pathetic residue of the poor girl’s life across the floor. A worn leather pouch, more like a large wallet, fell free from a bundle that Gamaliel recognized as the scraps of cotton fabric that matched the one he had retrieved from the bath.
“Let me see that leather thing there.” Barak handed him the folder. In it were letters, as he’d hoped. He sorted through them. None were dated that he could see, and judging by their condition, none were recent. They had been folded and refolded repeatedly so that the brittle papyrus had cracked along several of the folds and threatened to fall apart. But they were inscribed on papyrus. The correspondent could not have been poor. They bore no dates. He inspected the seals and judging from the condition of the wax and the wear at the folds, he arranged them in what he guessed were the order the girl had received them. He sat and began to read.
“That Cappo, she were a beautiful girl,” the old crone said, oblivious of the fact that she was interrupting the Rabban of the Sanhedrin. Minna tried to shush her. The old lady only raised her bushy eyebrows and offered a toothless grin. Gamaliel nodded his head in agreement and continued reading, first one missive, and then the next, one by one in order.
“What do they say, Rabban? Is there a clue to her killer in them?”
“They are not easily read. All I can gather is, not directly. It is what they do not say about her that is interesting, I think. There is no indication here to whom she may have been connected and, of course, we have only this side of the correspondence to go by, the letters she received. The language is so circumspect as to be nearly incomprehensible to a stranger who might intercept it and attempt to read it. I have to suppose that was done on purpose. The letters will require much more time and study before they give up their secrets. If we possessed the letters she wrote it might help, but of course we don’t.”
“You believe she wrote letters?”
“So it would seem. The person, persons to be precise, who sent her these—all but the last were by the same hand—seem to be responding to questions she put in previous letters. I confess at this moment I cannot deduce the questions from the answers.”
“But the last is different?”
“Yes. I believe it is the one you saw her reading in the court and which produced her tears.”
“It is a sad letter, then?”
“So it would seem. It tells her that someone—her father? Who knows? Apparently someone she knew intimately died or at least there is a death of some sort reported. I will need some hours to squeeze the sense from it—from all of them. They are oblique in their discourse. Almost a cipher. How odd. If I have it correct, it appears that she is told she must be careful and wait for someone else to fetch her back to her home now.”
“Who will be doing that?”
“I cannot say. The letters are very carefully constructed to make sense to only the recipient. The writing is obtuse, to say the least. I believe they were written by someone, a parent or a relative perhaps, who feared they might fall into the wrong hands. That in itself is interesting, don’t you think?”
Barak looked puzzled. This whole situation seemed beyond his comprehension. “If you say so, sir.”
“I do say so. I will take these letters with me. I will study them for their secrets. It is what I am trained to do. Usually I plumb Holy Writ for meaning, but these documents surely will respond in the same way.”
Minna and Barak exchanged glances. He shrugged. They were in the presence of the Rabban after all. If he said he could pry secrets from dry papyrus, he could.
“So, what else do we have of interest?”
“I cannot say. Clothes and some trinkets, a pair of sandals, very worn down at the heels, a scrap of cloth…” Barak pushed the bits and pieces around turning them over and separating them in turn.
“What is that?”
“What?”
“There is a small case under that scarf. I assume it is a scarf or another headdress.”
Barak pushed the flimsy piece of cloth aside and lifted the case. It appeared to be covered with the same sort of ceramic as the pendant.
“I’ll have that please.” Gamaliel said. He took it from Barak and pried open the lid. “I am surprised the other servants did not take this as well, or that it was returned when the steward required the things to be given back.” He pulled out a small object. “Well, well, well, do you know what this is, Barak?”
“No, sir.”
“It is a seal. The sort used to seal letters and documents. Only people of a certain stature own or have use for such things. Indeed, they are the only ones who need them. It suggests what?”
“Sir?”
“If it wasn’t obvious before, it is certain now. This girl was no ordinary servant. It confirms something I guessed at before.”
“Before?”
“Yes. There is the matter of the pendant you recall.” Barak frowned. He obviously did not recall anything. “Never mind. It seems we now know who she wasn’t. We must set out to find out who she was. When, or maybe it’s if, we do we will be closer to discovering her killer.”
“It’s not Menahem then?”
“I didn’t say that. I have a feeling, an intuition, perhaps. In the past I always denied such a thing was of any use when dealing with a problem. Nevertheless, while I am sure he has a murky past, I have my doubts about his guilt. But if his past happens to have crossed with the girl’s, he may, indeed, turn out to be the one we seek.”
“Shall we visit Menahem now, sir? He’ll be in his rooms this time of day.”
“Not just yet, Barak. I need some time to reread these letters and I want to have someone look at this box and seal.”
“I see. Will you be needing me anymore?”
“No, not until later this afternoon. Come to me after the noon meal in the room we use to interview. Oh, and one other thing. Have the captain of the palace guard come by then, too please.”
“Sir.”
Gamaliel made his way to the room assigned to him for his interviews. He pulled his chair up to a table, sat, and spread the letters out on its surface. In the next hour he read each multiple times, sometimes shifting his gaze from one to the other. Finally, at the start of the second hour, he shook his head and frowned. Deciphering the letters would need some time—a lot of time. He scooped them up and left the palace. He headed back to Agon the jewelry fabricator.
***
Chuzas, who had been spying behind the lattice work, watched him leave and then made his way to the king’s apartment to make his report. He didn’t know it but his were not the only eyes locked on the Rabban. The second observer frowned and considered his options. Had he done enough or should he linger on? His commission was to retrieve the pendant only. Anything beyond that was left to his discretion. He had failed in the primary mission but doing the girl in accomplished the same thing, didn’t it? He couldn’t be sure what his employer would say about that, but guessed it would not be pleasant. He wanted that bauble, whatever it was, and if he did not return with it before the news of the girl’s death reached Caesarea, there would be trouble.
But the death of an insignificant servant girl would not likely reach all the way to the north anytime soon, if at all. If, however, the authorities in Jerusalem discovered that she was anything but insignificant, well, that could change things in a hurry. This meddling rabbi might very well be successful in discovering the truth. And he’d failed to find that pendant at the physician’s house. So, now he had had to consider which of the only two courses he should follow. He could leave and hope to collect the bounty without the medallion in hand and before the rest of the news arrived. If he did and if he were paid, he’d be free at last to live where he wished and how he wished. He could head to Ephesus or some other distant venue and start over. Or he could wait for another chance. They said the rabbi carried it in a purse on his belt. If he were to kill him, take the thing, and then leave, he would be in the clear on all accounts. What was one more death? With that thought, decision actually, in mind, his course at the moment was set. He would wait for the right moment and seize the thing and then be gone.
He cared little which of the two brothers were to play Cain in this latest version of Genesis and would then challenge a new Caesar. The grandfather couldn’t prevail, so how did they imagine they would succeed where he failed? Perhaps they had more powerful gods on their side, but he doubted it. For reasons his uncomplicated mind could not grasp, they seemed to believe they needed the pendant to secure the throne and were willing to pay dearly to get it.
He would watch the old Jew and when the time was right would strike like a snake.
***
Agon had a customer when Gamaliel burst through his door. The poor man fell back at the sight of the Rabban. He stuttered an apology but Gamaliel stopped him.
“Stay, finish your business. I will wait for the goldsmith, please.”
He took a seat in the corner of the shop and pulled the girl’s box from the pouch at his belt. Agon completed his sale. The other potential customers had bolted at the sight of Gamaliel. He turned to the Rabban.
“You would do me a great favor, Rabban, if you would confine your visits to early morning or late in the day when my shop is usually empty. Have you any idea how many sales I may have lost when you come barging in here like that?”