the legionnaires dragged in a later batch, however, I glanced up and noticed one face that stood out, though the sight was so unexpected that it took my mind a few moments to process what my eyes had seen.
I spat and muttered a quiet expletive.
Bound fifth in the string, with his right eye blackened and blood dripping down behind his ear, was Markowitz. His face reflected a mixture of both confusion and raw terror.
Just before the Romans dragged his line through the doorway leading down to the dungeons, he shouted out my name, and Publius’s — though he fell silent after a soldier slapped him hard on the face and barked at him to shut up.
I ducked behind a column as I considered what to do next. I called out to Lavon, but received no answer. I closed my eyes in yet another effort to recall a few tiny fragments of Latin, but it was no use. Even if I could remember more than a phrase or two, that was a far cry from being able to communicate properly.
I’d put it off as long as I could, but I knew that at some point, I’d have to make a decision: whether I had a realistic chance to save our reckless friend, or whether, by trying, I would share his fate.
***
I stewed over this for a little while; then to my relief, I heard Sharon’s voice. As Lavon had predicted, Herod’s servants had taken her to the baths, which were, unsurprisingly, a luxurious contrast to the Spartan, barracks-like facility in the Antonia.
“Can you tell me exactly where you are now?” I asked.
“I’m upstairs on the northwestern side of the compound. It’s like a big dorm.”
She described the chamber as being situated two floors above another
Once again, Herod’s engineers had been clever. Heat from the furnace below the baths flowed upward through vents in the chamber’s floors. At the far end, mounted to the wall, a two-foot diameter wheel rotated valves that permitted the heated air to flow through the room when the weather turned cold and shunted the excess to the outside on warmer days.
I couldn’t help but ask whether the women fought over the thermostat.
She chuckled briefly before turning serious.
“Have the others come back?” she asked.
“Not yet,” I replied.
I wasn’t about to say more. Though her mental state seemed to be holding up well, I was sure that at the back of her mind, she held to the certainty that once Lavon came back and we could speak to the Roman commander, we’d have her back in the fortress before anything untoward could happen.
How she would react once she realized she’d have to fend for herself, I had no way to know.
***
I returned to my duties and had worked for another hour when the gate opened and forty horsemen charged inside.
After the soldiers came to a halt, grooms rushed forward to claim their mounts and lead them to the stables. Like everyone else involved with the Romans, the stable-hands went about their tasks with a brisk efficiency.
One man stood at the center of attention. After he dismounted, he remained still while attendants removed his armor. It was only when Volusus emerged from a side entrance and saluted that I realized the likely identity of the new arrival.
I nudged a nearby soldier, pointed to the man, and shrugged.
He understood. “The prefect,” he replied. “Pilatus.”
Though I was too far away to hear what they were saying, from their demeanors, it appeared that the prefect and the fort’s commander were on reasonably good terms.
Pilate asked a few questions, but mostly he just listened to the officers’ accounts. His face reflected very little emotion, one way or the other.
I tried hard not to stare. My own mental image, derived from both the Gospels and Hollywood, depicted Pilate as a weak, vacillating figure torn between his own conscience and the demands of the howling mob. As with many of my other impressions, I began to suspect that this one, too, was wrong.
After hearing the reports, Pilate walked over to speak to a group of wounded soldiers. He told a few jokes, from the look of it, and then directed his attention to a final group of ragged captives who knelt on the stone floor, awaiting transfer to the dungeons.
“Who are these people?” he asked.
A junior officer responded. “We picked them up in the disturbance today. We’re in the process of questioning them.”
“Take them below and give them to Titus Labernius,” said Pilate. “He will know how to get the truth from them.”
A loud, blood-curdling scream wafted through the courtyard from below.
“Two men are there now, excellency,” said the officer.
The prefect considered this for a moment before turning his attention to Volusus.
“Very well. I’d like you to prepare a full report concerning everything that has happened over the past few days. We’ll discuss it after my bath.”
Chapter 38
I could do nothing but wait. I cringed at each scream from the torture below, and relaxed only after I was certain that the victim had not spoken English. After a while, I even found myself hunting for some wine, to steady my nerves.
At long last, just as dusk was beginning to settle over the courtyard, the gate opened and two familiar figures passed through. I breathed a sigh of relief as I whistled and waved them over.
“Thank God you’re here,” I said.
Lavon looked around the courtyard, his face lined with worry. “Did Ray make it back?”
Both he and Bryson winced as a prisoner let out a loud wail that echoed through the fort.
I dipped my head toward the paving stones at my feet. “He’s down there, with the others. Tell me what happened.”
Lavon explained as best he could. Shortly after Markowitz entered the Temple, a disturbance had broken out. Unable to see the source of the trouble, Lavon and Bryson had scurried away as unobtrusively as they could and had hidden themselves in the midst of empty animal cages.
That’s what I had heard earlier.
They had waited for the chance to go back to the
“We figured he’d make his way back, eventually,” said Lavon. “I just never imagined that he would get caught up with the rioters.”
“Do you have any idea how it happened?” asked Bryson.
“No,” I replied. “The Romans dragged in a dozen or so batches of prisoners. Ray was in one of the latter groups. That’s all I know.”
“Is he OK?” asked Bryson.
“Other than being beaten to a pulp and facing slow torture, I’d say he’s fine.”
My sarcasm eluded the Professor, though not Lavon.
“Did you try to speak to him?” asked the archaeologist.
I glanced over to a group of wounded soldiers. “Today hasn’t been a great day for the Romans, either. I figured I’d be just as likely to join him downstairs if I tried to speak out.”
Lavon nodded in understanding.
“By the way, you won’t believe who the mob’s leader is.” I said.
