"Those treaties never seem to specify a date by which allied troops should be off our territory."
"Because our allies find us so valuable. They often manage to get into another war immediately, relying upon our aid." He took a sip. "But we shall be on our way as soon as we've crushed Manasseh, and his allies, if need be. We have to get back to Rome."
"And it might be a good idea for you to move your army away from Jerusalem very soon," she said.
"Move my army away? Why?" He was instantly suspicious. It was basic sense for a general to stay close to his men. An attempt to separate him from his troops usually meant treachery on the part of an enemy or even an ally. Especially an ally.
"There are some new prophets in town. These are from the North, from Galilee. They heard of this foreign army and came to look for signs of corruption."
"Corruption?" Norbanus said, mystified.
"Exactly. The prophets make it their special duty to see that the people are not tempted to follow foreign ways. That, you see, leads to worshipping foreign gods."
"What harm does it do to honor the gods of other people?" he asked. "We are always careful not to insult the gods of others."
"It is all too easy to insult the god of the Jews without intending to. For instance, these prophets, led by one Joshua ben Joshua, are complaining about the idols your men carry before them."
"I have no idea what you are talking about."
"The eagles and bulls and scorpions and so forth that the men dressed in animal skins carry on poles before the troops."
"You mean the military standards?" he said, incredulous. "Your prophets object to our standards?"
"Yes. They are graven images, you see. Our religion forbids the making of any object that imitates a living thing."
"So I've heard. What about those lion-things with wings and human heads that flank the entrance to your temple? Or the bronze bulls that support the big water bowl in front of it?"
She smiled again. "There is of course an exception for the holy objects of the Temple. There is no exception for foreigners like you. When the Syrian Antiochus tried to introduce Greek statues and Greek rites in our holy places, there was war."
He folded his hands and leaned forward earnestly. "You do understand, don't you, that you people are quite insane?"
"If so, it's what our god requires of us. And these prophets are raising the people, haranguing them to rise against you and against Jonathan."
"And the king permits this? They are probably agents sent by Manasseh. He should have them killed."
"Prophets are sacrosanct," she said, sighing. "No matter how troublesome they may be."
"Oh. Like tribunes of the people?" He thought for a minute. "Why don't I just send some of my men to kill them? Jonathan can hold me responsible. And keep his own hands clean."
"That would be a good thing, but there would be a riot anyway."
"Then we could just massacre the rioters and peace would be restored. Jerusalem can easily spare a mob or two."
"Or you could just leave. Then they'd have nothing to complain about."
"Oh, please don't run him off so soon," said a voice behind Norbanus. He did not need to turn around. One of the twins had spoken. He knew that both would be there. He had yet to see the two of them separated by more than a few feet.
"Please join us, ladies," Tamar said, smiling without affection.
The twins drifted into Norbanus's field of vision. It was the only way he could think of to describe their motion: They drifted. They seemed as languid and boneless as a pair of somnolent eels, and as difficult to distinguish. Like Tamar they wore modest gowns, but their curly black hair was uncovered and they wore elaborate jewelry. Their faces were high cheekboned and full-lipped, their eyes emphasized with kohl. They looked, Norbanus thought, exactly like what they were: the final, decadent offspring of an ancient and corrupt civilization. Glorious Babylon had long disappeared, crushed beneath the boots of a succession of conquerors, but her wickedness seemed to be imperishable. Even in the rather relaxed court of Jonathan, the two were tolerated mainly for their mastery of Babylon's gift to the world: astrology. Their mother had been a star reader much valued by Jonathan and Manasseh's father.
"Are you going to tell us what the stars have to say about our guest's future?" Tamar asked warily. Norbanus knew that Tamar despised the twins, but like everyone else she was intimidated by their command of the arcane art. It surprised him that, despite their incredibly exclusive religion, almost all of these people had faith in Babylonian star augury.