The Eighth Veil (8 page)

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Authors: Frederick Ramsay

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BOOK: The Eighth Veil
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The princess stared vacantly at Gamaliel. If he let his imagination run, he would have said she had just the hint of a smile, perhaps a smirk, at the corners of her lips. His experience had only been with sons—his late wife handled their daughters—but he knew adolescent disdain when he saw it.

“One last question. Did you know the dead girl?”

“Cappo? No I did not, well not really. I may have seen her, you know, she served my mother the queen sometimes, but not to speak to. There are protocols, you know. She was only a servant.”

“That was her name, Cappo?”

“It is what we called her, so I suppose so.”

“Yes, of course. It has been reported to me that the girl was part of your father’s, that is to say the king’s brother’s household, originally. Is that so?”

“She might have been. We don’t pay attention to servant girls unless they are part of our personal attendants. They come and they go, so it is difficult for me to say.”

“I see. Is there anything you can think of that can be of help to me? I have no doubt the court would like to see me gone soon. I need your help to make that happen.”

“Sorry, no. As I said—”

“You retired early, yes, Thank you, Princess. That will be all for now.”

She swayed from the room, trailing her scent behind her like a fisherman’s lure.

The woman was a liar. That much he now knew for a certainty. She lied about knowing the dead girl and she lied about the cloth, about who wore it, and probably how it came to lie on the bottom of the pool. But whether the lies were important, he could not say. He watched as the young woman, the princess, whose body had caused one man to die and no doubt would bring about the same fate for others before age and childbearing made her heavy and slow, disappeared through the door at the far end of the room.

He would try the mother next. He was sure that if the child could lie with such aplomb, the mother would as well—and doubtless with greater skill.

Chapter IX

The steward escorted the princess out and the door closed on them with a soft thud. Gamaliel waited alone and, he was sure, under close surveillance. Moments later, Chuzas re-entered the room and resumed his seat.

“The queen will attend you shortly. Be forewarned, she is not a patient person and will not likely answer questions she deems too personal or inappropriate to ask of her personage.”

“What exactly does that mean, Steward? Are you telling me she will defy the direct request of the Prefect? It is a fact that technically his jurisdiction does not extend into the area ruled by the king, but that rule exists only at the sufferance of the emperor. Surely this household knows from whence its power derives and how tenuous it is. So, she must be aware I am the Prefect’s agent in this, and I am no more eager to interrogate her than she is to be interrogated, but it is Pilate’s command that I do so, and it is equally her responsibility that she comply. I wish to have done with this onerous task as soon as possible. I would think the royal family would appreciate that and even share it.”

“Yes, but you see—”

“I see nothing, but I have no doubt your queen does even as we speak.” He turned toward the screens, which one to address he didn’t know, so he spoke in both directions. “I would say to her, if she were here, ‘Highness, please make both of our days easier and the duration of this investigation shorter and be as forthcoming as you possibly can.’”

The steward sat back in confused silence and glanced anxiously at the wall to the left. So that is where the observers sat—good to know. Who else, Gamaliel wondered sat with her? He guessed his plea may have fallen on deaf ears. He also knew that royalty danced to a different tune played on the
asor
than the rest of humanity. Nothing stirred. He did not expect a response. The queen would not acknowledge the fact she’d eavesdropped in any event. He waited.

“So tell me, Steward, are you married? Are there children in your household? We must keep each other company for the next several days so I would like to know something of you.”

“I am, Rabban, married that is. Joanna is my wife. Perhaps, as Rabban, you have heard of her?”

Gamaliel thought he heard the scrape of a chair being moved and furtive footsteps behind the lattice but he could not be sure. He felt a momentary draft on his feet as if a door had been opened and shut somewhere. Cool air with a hint of damp. From where? Some other part of the palace perhaps, but how could that be?

“How would I have heard of your wife, Steward? I get out but seldom and never to the King’s Court.”

“Not from the court. No, I thought it may have been brought to your attention by the authorities in the Temple. She is one of those who have thrown in with the Galilean rabbi. She was not well and…disturbed you could say.”

“Disturbed? What exactly does that mean?”

“She behaved oddly. She attributes her healing to the rabbi. So now, she supports him with her time and my money.”

“Does she indeed? And how do you feel about that? Have you so little money you cannot forfeit some of it in that way?”

“To give money to a rabbi is a good thing so we are taught. Is it not written that you do the Lord’s work when you pay the teachers? How can I object? It is not so much the money as…the other thing.”

“The other thing? First, it is true enough that the teachers deserve your support, but why this one and not some other more noteworthy, more acceptable rabbi, one closer to hand than a Galilean?”

Chuzas only shrugged.

“Did not Solomon tell us, ‘Two things rob a man of peace, a yelping dog and a forward woman,’ Chuzas? Is that the other thing of which you spoke?”

“Yes and, well is it not also written, Rabban, ‘A wife of noble character is her husband’s crown.’ Yes?”

“Yes, ‘but a disgraceful one is like decay in his bones.’ Be careful with your words. Wisdom has to be discerned, Steward, before it is dispensed. Are you content with her divided loyalty?”

“Divided? How so?”

“Steward, many may wish to dispute it, and I for one have reservations as to the extent of it, but we hold that a wife must first follow the lead of her husband. A woman may not feel this dictum is just, may rail against the imposition it forces upon her, but it is our way. I would soften it if I could. Perhaps someday, I shall. But for now it is as it is. If your Joanna follows a rabbi not of your choosing, her loyalty is divided in three ways. She will be following this rabbi, following her own will, and only lastly following you. This last is highly debatable, but in any event, one third of a wife is no wife at all.”

Chuzas face reddened. “What can I do? This man is persuasive and the little I hear of his teaching, attractive. He has other followers in the court, I am ashamed to say. They have the ability to sway the interests of some, in a general way, of course. There is, after all, the Law and so on.”

“Yes, and so on…you have a problem to struggle with, my friend. It is a problem that causes you much distress, I gather. That is what I hear in the tone of your answers at any rate. My advice to you is to deal with it directly and soon. Your wife may admire her rabbi, but her loyalty must remain with you.”

“You are right, of course. But still, it is not so easy. I am not unaware, Rabban of my position. It is not fair to say I have nothing.”

“Indeed? You will tell me of your measures?”

Chuzas looked away and said nothing. Gamaliel studied the man for a moment. “Very well, then tell me, who are these others in the king’s household that are in sympathy with this man?”

Chuzas looked uncomfortable. “It is not for me to say, but there are some.”

“Not of the king’s company?” Chuzas only shrugged and any further thoughts he might have advanced about the rabbi and his putative followers evaporated at the appearance of the queen. The two men stood and bowed.

“Majesty,” Gamaliel said. “You are most kind to grant us this hour of your time. I will do my best to be brief and to the point.”

Herodias nodded and took her place on the chair prepared for her which, because of her position, had been placed on a low platform so that her head and shoulders were higher than those of the two men.

“Ma’am, can you describe for me the events of the evening in question, that is to say, the night of the murder of the unfortunate young woman?”

“I can add nothing to what I am sure you have been told by everyone else. We dined, there was music, and then the king and I retired. Whatever happened in the baths is not known to us. Had we been aware that some members of the court had adopted the ways of the Romans and the Greeks before them, we most certainly would have put a stop to it. It is a blasphemy, is it not?”

“It is a breach of the Law, certainly. Then you are telling me, Majesty, that neither you nor the king had any knowledge of the events that took place after the evening’s dining and entertainment, that is to say, in the baths?”

“Of course not.”

“Excuse the impertinence, but how can that be? Everyone in the court seemed to know and many have testified it was a common occurrence. Even Chuzas, your steward knew. Are you saying he did not tell you?”

“I am.” She turned on the steward with a scowl. “You were remiss, Steward. Your negligence in this will be punished.”

Well, Gamaliel thought, that’s neatly done. Indeed, the mother is not only bolder in her lies than the daughter, but foolishly so. Only someone protected by the royal seal would dare to disclaim what everyone else knew and knew she knew as well.

“I see.” He lifted the medallion from the table at his side. Herodias seemed briefly nonplussed. She must have assumed he would ask about the cloth. “Do you, by any chance, recognize this Majesty?” He held it out to her. She took it in her right hand. As she brought it towards her, it slipped from her fingers and fell onto the tiles. Gamaliel reached and retrieved the medallion and did not offer it back to her. Something had changed in its appearance.

“I do not believe I have ever seen the thing,” she said.

“No? Well thank you then for your time, I have no further questions.”

“Indeed? You summon me from my chambers to ask if I know of this bauble and that is all?”

“For now, yes. You have been most helpful.”

She rose and with as much dignity a short and slightly plump woman could manage, swayed from the room. When she had cleared the doorway, Gamaliel leaned to Chuzas and said, “We will see the king after the noonday meal. I have an important errand I must attend to. He rose and left a thoroughly befuddled Chuzas in the center of the room and he guessed several others behind the screen as well.

“Oh, and one more thing, I wish to speak to this man, the king’s companion, Menahem, as soon as possible after his Highness.”

The beaded curtain rattled behind him as he made for the street.

Chapter X

One could buy nearly anything from fish to furniture in the market street that ran from the king’s palace to the temple. Located along its length as well were the craftsmen, molders of clay pots, silver and goldsmiths, and fabricators of jewelry, armor, clothing, and weapons. It was to one of the jewelers that Gamaliel now hurried. He had less than an hour to speak to his man and return to the place for his interview with the king. Enough time, surely, if the jeweler could answer his question. If he could not, tomorrow would be spent elsewhere in the city seeking one that could.

Agon he knew from having briefly taught his son. He was a better jeweler than his son was a Talmudic student and by mutual agreement the son, after his very brief stint as a student, went to Caesarea Maritima to learn a more suitable trade. Study of the Torah was beyond his reach in spite of his genuine enthusiasm, and both parent and teacher knew it.

“Agon, my friend, I have a question for you and I have precious little time to ask and receive your answer.”

At the sight of the Rabban of the Sanhedrin, the three customers already in the store bowed and exited, whether from awe, fear, or respect he did not know.

“Rabban, I am your humble servant as always. What is it you wish to know? I will answer if I can.”

Gamaliel retrieved the pendent from the leather pouch at his side and laid it on the counter. “You see this pendant?”

“Yes. What is it you wish to know about it?”

“In the process of handing it to someone who shall be nameless, it accidently fell to the floor. You see here, at this point, some of the glaze has been chipped.”

Agon picked up the piece and scrutinized it carefully. “Yes, I see that.”

“You also see there appears to be metal beneath the glaze and something else as well?”

Agon turned the piece over and back again. “May I inquire where this came from?”

“My friend, for the moment my instinct tells me to withhold that information. There is a story, a bloody story, I fear, which is attached to that item. For your protection, it would be best that you not know where you saw this or what you may discover about it subsequently.”

“I see.” After such a warning a lesser man might have shown at least some small indication of nervousness, but Agon had served as a soldier in one of the many noncitizen legions, the Roman Auxillae, before he took up the manufacture of precious trinkets. A painful limp and an ugly scar on his left leg attested to his service and its premature end. Gamaliel knew this and enough of the rest of the man’s life to know he could be trusted with the task he’d soon be handed.

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