The Eighth Veil (25 page)

“I see. How does one enter the spaces?”

“Oh, well there are only two that can be used. The space to the left opens directly from the royal apartments. The king, the queen, or the princess can slip in and out without anyone knowing. The screens are set on the two side walls. The ones with the entrances to the corridors are decorative only, you know, to make all the walls match. There the fretwork is set directly on the stone behind so there is no hiding space behind them. Of course the depth of the arch in the middle of each would show you that.”

“And the screens on the right?”

“It is a similar space as to the left but the only entrance is from the basement, not the rooms behind the wall.”

“Really? Tell me again. How were these hiding places to be used?”

“As I said, the first Herod would like to watch his guests before he greeted them. If there were to be refreshments or entertainment, the servers or performers would approach through the basement to the other staircase and emerge through the center archway, which has or had a working door. Herod did not want the servants to be crowding the corridors, you see.”

“That’s all?”

“No, actually, the more important use fell to the palace guards. King Herod feared for his life and he nearly always had armed guards in the space that led to the basement in case something untoward happened. They could rush in and protect him.”

“So, the guards would know?’

“That was back in the old king’s time, Rabban. I do not know about these new ones. I suppose they would. They must be acquainted with the palace and its points of access to do their job.”

“Yes, of course they would. How about the other door? Is the door set in the left wall operable?”

“I do not know. I believe it serves only as a decorative item to complete the symmetry with the other walls. But that may have been changed since. Shall I try it?”

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary just now, but that would mean, if the king or whoever sat behind the left-hand screen wished to enter the room, he would have to exit back through the royal area and come around to the far entrance.”

“Yes.”

“And the people called to serve the guests or the guards would enter through the door to the right.”

“Yes.”

“That is interesting. We must go to that most fascinating room and have a look at those wonderful hiding holes.”

“I’m not so sure that is a good idea. Suppose the king or the queen is seated in one?”

“We will pass on the left-handed area for now. It is not the one that interests me. I want to inspect the one to the right.”

Barak looked doubtful. “I don’t think anyone has looked in there for forty years.”

“I think you may be wrong. But if that is true, then we shall be the first to do so in four decades.”

Nothing had changed since their last visit to the room. Gamaliel, instead of taking his place at the table, stepped close to the wall and inspected its construction. It had been painted vermillion originally, but either age or the composition of the paint had darkened the hue to a deep ox blood. He peered through one of the spaces and realized that the inner surface of the lattice had been covered with a gauzy material that further prevented anyone from being seen as long as no light was allowed in the space. As nearly as he could tell, the walls behind were painted the same color and had faded as well, but not as much. Apparently the sun’s rays that poured through the glazed slits in the ceiling had some effect on the fading.

He made his way slowly around the room chatting with Barak and making sure that if anyone sat behind the screens they could hear him and know of his intention to open at least one door. He might have imagined it, but he thought he heard footsteps, the scrape of a shod foot against a gritty stone floor, to the right. He paused and then, with effort, pulled open the door that accessed the right hand area. As he expected, it was empty. He glanced at, but did not step close to, the stone steps that led down into the cellars. He had what he needed. Now it came down to selecting the proper time. The longer he waited, the more desperate his man would become and the greater the likelihood he would make a mistake.

And the guards knew about the space. He smiled. He would have his man after all.

Chapter XXXV

Loukas would have blamed the
Moirai
, those Greek entities who determined the shape, length, and end to the thread of life. Pilate would have called down the Fates, but Gamaliel simply assumed the Lord had a plan. However or whoever would now shoulder the blame, the Lord, some goddesses, or just the workings of one man going about his business, his attempt to talk with Menahem was met with yet another delay. Chuzas bustled in to join him in the interview room just as he completed his survey of the lattice work.

“Chuzas, have you made the arrangements for me to—”

“Rabban, excuse me, but I have an urgent message—”

“Another? Can’t it wait?”

“Sorry, no. I have been charged to find you and tell you to make yourself available to speak with the king.”

“The king? I thought he did not intend to ever speak with me again. As I recall he was very firm about that. What is so urgent that the king must speak with me now?”

“It appears he has relented. He does indeed want to speak to you. I believe he wishes to thank you for something.”

“Thank me, whatever for?”

“It is not for me to say. He will attend you shortly, he said.”

As quickly as he’d come, Chuzas disappeared in the direction of the royal apartments. Gamaliel took his seat and waited. He could not imagine what the king had to say to him, and gratitude seemed the last thing he’d expect. Would wonders never cease? First, a show of patent animosity and now an olive branch? He rose when the king swept into the room. Except for Chuzas hovering at his heels he was alone, no retinue. Interesting.

“Follow me, Rabban,” he said and motioned towards the corridor. Gamaliel guessed the king did not wish to be overheard either. Who else skulked behind that screen? Did the king fear the queen might be lurking there? It must be difficult, living in a palace where no one could be trusted, even with a casual conversation.

“You wished to speak to me, Majesty?”

Once in the corridor and well out of earshot of the room and its spider’s web of a wall, the king stopped.

“I wish to thank you, Rabban, for resisting the pressure applied on the queen’s part to turn Menahem over to Pilate.”

Menahem again. At every turn this man popped up like a poor relation at meal time. If he didn’t know better, Gamaliel would have sworn the key to the mystery lay at the feet of that old man. In fact, he wasn’t sure it didn’t.

“There was no cause to turn him over.”

“No. So I have been told. But even if Chuzas hadn’t told me the knife you found in the bath had not been used to do the deed, I would not have let him go. Guilty or not.”

“You would defy the Prefect?”

“I would. He is powerful and has the emperor at his back, but he cannot depose a king and would not try. Not for Menahem.”

“You are close to Menahem, then.”

“He has been my confidant and friend for nearly five decades, Rabban. That is a long time and yes, we are close. Growing up in the house of the king, my father, could never be deemed normal, if you follow me. The first Herod had many interests, many enemies, and many wives. Two of my brothers and one stepmother and her mother as well, he put to death as you know. He told me about it at the time, how he had them strangled while he watched. He wanted to make very clear to me what happened to those who plotted against him. I had never thought to do so, and after hearing the story from his lips, never thought to in the future either, you can be sure.”

“I am guessing, of course, but Menahem served as a stabilizing presence in your life?”

“You could say that.”

“Who is he, or where did he come from? And how did he come to be a foster brother, if that is what he was…is?”

“Who is he? I am not sure. He is very discreet about his origins. Certainly he never confided in me. He did say at one time it would not be healthy for me to know. There were rumors, of course. There always are. The only one I credit has him the son of a Roman woman my father knew when he spent time in Caesar’s court. That would be about the time he petitioned the Emperor Julius to support his bid to become king of Israel. Menahem has those western features, you see.”

“Yes, that is true.”

“He arrived when I was in my fifth year. He must have been in his seventeenth at the time and he was much older than I but now, as we both age, I think I have caught up and then passed him. When he speaks about things of the world, he sounds like he is the younger.”

“The queen also contacted the High Priest about turning him over to Pilate. What is it about Menahem that so annoys the queen?”

“Ah…” The king let his gaze wander over an unusually designed silk tapestry hanging on the wall. “The queen has a very determined personality. She does not like to share with anyone. Menahem is a gentle soul and she resents the fact that I listen to him. She would prefer I only seek advice from her. She also knows that Menahem counseled me not to put aside Phasaelis to marry her.”

“And the business with the holy man, John?”

At the mention of the Baptizer’s name, the king blanched. “It was a mistake, Rabban. You must tell the Sanhedrin, the leaders, I did not mean to put the Nation in jeopardy over that man. He annoyed me and spoke untruths about the marriage. I asked the leadership and they all said there were precedents for my union with…well, we had our disagreements. But, as to the beheading, I had foolishly given my word in public and I could not back away. Trust me, I never dreamed the child would ask for such a terrible prize, that she would be so bloodthirsty, or more to the point, let her mother rule her in it.”

“But she did. No doubt, little will come of it, Majesty. The people in the streets believe him to have been a prophet, but those of us who know the Book remain unconvinced as to that. You may rest easy.”

“Hearing you say that is a great relief for me.” The king started to leave and then stopped. “Tell me, how are your investigations proceeding?”

“Well, I think. Can you help in one last thing?”

“Certainly, if it is in my power to do so.”

“I do not require power, Majesty, only an answer. Who is the man Graecus?”

“A king, Rabban, has many favors expected of him and in return, receives many. I cannot always keep the ‘books’, you could say, straight. At any rate, this man came to me with a paper from an old ally who wished me to help him in a transaction of some sort. To be honest I cannot remember what I did or received from him but I agreed to help. I have not had a further interview with the man since and they tell me he has left the city anyway.”

“I see. So, you do not know him personally?”

“No, but I am persuaded he is who he claims to be, if that is what you are after.”

“Thank you. That is a great help.”

“Is it? Well, well. How so?”

“You have shown me another corridor that seems to lead nowhere and one, therefore, I do not need walk down and so I can direct my search elsewhere.”

“I am not sure I follow you, but no matter. Do you know who killed the girl?”

“I hope so. It is not easy. But in any event, I cannot say at the moment. There are a few loose ends to tie together and then all will be revealed. I must catch him first.”

“You think you can?’

“Again, I hope. Failing that, I will identify him and let the Prefect’s men bring him in.”

“I will leave you to it then. A word of caution, Rabban.”

“Yes?”

“The walls have ears.” He cocked his head back in the direction of the interview room. “Be careful what you say, if you do not want the queen and her spies to hear it.”

“Thank you, Majesty. I will bear that in mind.”

The king squinted at Gamaliel for a moment and then a trace of a smile crossed his lips. “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

It was Gamaliel’s turn to smile. “Oh, one last question, Majesty, if I may.”

“As long as you refrain from taking me to task for my poor observance, certainly.”

“The Prefect heard rumors that one of your brother’s children might be in the city and in pursuit of questionable ends.”

“Who would that be?”

“The son of Alexander by Glaphyra, Archelaus.”

“That is not possible.”

“With respect, Majesty, why not possible?”

“Because he is dead these last seven months.”

“Ah, then it couldn’t have been him.”

“Pardon?”

“It takes a turn, Majesty, thank you. Dead seven months, of course.”

Chapter XXXVI

Gamaliel indicated that Chuzas should follow him and return to the room.

“What do you make of that, Steward?”

“Of what?”

“Pilate seemed certain this Archelaus had come to Jerusalem for some possibly nefarious purpose and the king declares him dead for over a half year. How can the vaunted Roman information gathering network have been so wrong?”