Fifth Gospel(17)

‘Welcome, welcome, procurator! I hope your journey was not too unpleasant? Come, sit at my table and take some refreshment before retiring to your praetorium….’ He turned to a smooth faced boy standing in the shadows and waved a ring crowded hand at him. ‘Wine and fruit!’ he said. After that he turned to Rufus and in a loud whisper full of intimacy, he said, ‘As promised I have a number of nubile servants awaiting your attentions. I hope they will satisfy your appetite…though to look at you I am reminded of a Roman saying – that hunger makes all things taste pleasurable!’ He laughed a little and let it fade to nothing.

Rufus, for his part, took to grinding his teeth.

‘You may thank me tomorrow,’ Herod said serenely, when no word from Rufus was forthcoming, and paused, no doubt turning the wheels of his mind to some base mischief. ‘There is another matter…I hope you do not find me presumptuous, but when I heard of your imminent arrival, I took the liberty of calling for the captain of your Roman guard in Jerusalem to meet you here in my apartment. I thought you would want to be informed at once of the state of affairs…that way your mind, freed from any unpleasant business, can incline upon the pleasures that await you…I was certain you would agree.’

The fox had contrived his own presence at a discussion between him and his Commander in Jerusalem! Rufus scratched absently at his cheeks and fashioned his voice to be cold and laconic, ‘You are too kind.’

The other man’s head made the slight nod of a thoughtful uncle. ‘Yes of course! Many people say it.’

The wine and sweetmeats arrived, lavish, fresh and inviting, but even before the servant had poured Rufus a draught of wine a Roman Centurion was announced.

The man’s name was Gaius Cassius Longinus. He was tall and carried the burden of his armour over well-muscled shoulders. A man of no more than thirty-five springs, at a guess, though his eyes bespoke the weariness of older years, a weariness that Rufus determined must come from living in a nest of vipers.

The centurion took one look at Herod, made his salute to the procurator, and inclined his head in the appropriate fashion.

Rufus waited for his cup to be filled and took a sip of the Galilean wine. He let it sit in his mouth. It was dry and tasted of ashes and made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. It was a moment before he could say, ‘What have you to report?’

The Centurion looked his superior in the eye. ‘All seems peaceful,’ he told him.

‘And our spies?’

‘They report nothing out of the ordinary. There are madmen in every street corner announcing the coming of a Messiah. They speak of a miraculous deliverance that will soon come from heaven to rid them of the rule of Rome...but this is nothing new. These men come in from the hills, dishevelled in appearance and dress. The Jews call them Nazarites.’

Rufus took another thoughtful sip of the foul tasting wine and said, ‘So in your estimation these Nazarites are harmless…they will not incite the people?’

Cassius shook his head slightly. ‘In my experience they are not like the zealots. They are nothing more than soothsayers who presage the future and call not for violence but for repentance and wakefulness.’

Rufus did not like it. ‘Repentance and wakefulness, you say?’ He sat back, feeling Herod’s eye upon him. ‘Well then, what measures are we implementing to wakefulness so that we do not repent our stupidity?’

The centurion’s discomfort was also plain to his eye. He looked askance to Herod and only continued after a nod from Rufus. ‘From the Census we know all who live within the walls of the city. In the next day or two the larger masses will arrive for the holiday. I will have men posted at all the gates taking names, ages and birthplaces. Checking all goods brought in and out of the city.’

Rufus was dissatisfied with everything. ‘How do you suppose you will find dissidents this way?’

‘During the holiday we are outnumbered. Once the dissidents are assembled they will move like a wildfire through the city and there is no way we can stop them. But if we can put out small fires, one by one, before the holiday begins, then we may have a chance of preventing a conflagration.’

‘You must search every house then, every street!’

Herod Antipas made a noise, a clearing of the debris at the back of his throat. ‘Forgive me, procurator, but might I interject with a word of advice?’ He looked at his rings a moment. ‘Before your soldiers start breaking into the houses of the people of Israel…perhaps you should take a moment to cogitate...’

Irritated, Rufus cast a sharp eye over Herod. ‘What do you mean?’