“With respect, Regina,” Getorius ventured. “Aetius would be more direct.”
“Direct?”
“My husband isn’t implying that Aetius is plotting something,” Arcadia said quickly.
“Oh, what would either of you know about what goes on in this palace?” Placidia scoffed. “You’re so immersed in your cures….” She waved out a servant who had heard the clatter and looked in, then picked up the bent cup and set it on a marble table. “Sigisvult dead, now Renatus,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. “And don’t tell me that building master accidentally slipped off a wharf. With all this happening, my son is out hunting again with his two barbarians. Theokritos hasn’t given me a report on his tests. Why is he stalling?”
“Your library master wants to be sure,” Getorius said to reassure Placidia. “I was impressed by the way he’s experimenting in various ways to determine the age of the papyri and writing style.”
Placidia slumped down onto a silk-upholstered couch. “This is so important, Surgeon. Have you found out any more about that monk who was found dead?”
“Only that Behan came to the library from time to time, to read.”
“These holy men…monastics…have been active in Egypt for years,” Placidia went on. “I understand some in the West have also formed communities. Was this Behan trying to proselytize? Why was he here?”
“I’m not sure,” Getorius replied, “but would you accept a suggestion, Regina?”
“Anything. I’m about at the end of my tether.”
“I don’t know who he is, but the leader of the Judean community in Ravenna might be told about the will. He could have advice about handling the forgery, or at least give you the Judean reaction to the terms.”
Placidia stood and poured herself more wine from a silver flagon before nodding, “Yes, you have a worthwhile idea, Surgeon. The will may be a forgery, but that didn’t stop the so-called letters of Pontius Pilate to Herod and Tiberius from attracting believers. I like your proposal.”
“I think the Judeans have a synagogue at the far northeast quarter of the port.”
“Yes, Surgeon, I know my city. Come to think of it, I believe the Judeans’ leader was a friend of your father’s.”
“My father?” Getorius was startled. “H…how could that be?”
“Nicias once told me the story. I don’t recall this Judean’s name, but the tax assessors can look it up in their records. The man was a merchant on business in Ravenna or Classis, when the Burgondi raid took place. He heard that his wife had been killed—along with your parents—and never went back to Mogontiacum.”
“And now he’s what, high priest of the Judeans here?” Getorius was excited at the possibility of talking with someone other than Nicias who had known his parents. “Regina, his connection with me may help in getting him to cooperate.”
“Yes, and I’ll remind him that my father, Emperor Theodosius, protected Judean rights in his Code. It is worth the risk of telling one other person about the papyri, yet is this man trustworthy?”
“Regina, we must do something.”
“You’re right, Surgeon. Go to the tax office and find out the man’s name. Where he lives. But get an impression of him before you say anything about the will. We don’t want some Hebrew fanatic demanding to move into the palace before sundown.” Placidia went to her writing desk and took a small square of vellum that had her signet on the front. “This is authorization for getting the information,” she said, handing the note to Getorius. “The tax office is near the Scholarian barracks.”
“We’ll find it. And the Judean.”
Placidia walked to the door with the couple. “Surgeon, I want this resolved quickly. If Aetius is behind this, I remind you that at least three witnesses are dead.”
“How would the commander even find out about the papyri?” Arcadia asked.
“My dear, the man has informants everywhere, probably including some among those who are responsible for forging the will. After the document was released, he would tell us that only his armies could deal with the situation. Meanwhile, he’s making sure that none of us who were in my mausoleum that night lives to tell about it.”
“With respect, Regina,” Getorius countered, “his two Huns could have killed us then, but he sent them to protect you. We may see conspiracies where none exist.”
“Like hypokhondrioi,” Placidia challenged, “patients who come to you with imaginary illnesses? Don’t you act as if they are really sick, in order to help them? No, Aetius is undoubtedly as surprised as we are that the papyri were discovered. Go now, but be cautious.”
Protasius, the clerk who admitted Getorius, was surly, mistaking him for another citizen coming to argue about a tax assessment. But he ogled Arcadia and asked about her bandaged forehead with exaggerated concern.
Placidia’s signet tempered his hostility, but it was the prospect of impressing the chestnut-haired woman that interested Protasius as he led the couple back to the records area. The room resembled a library, with scrolls and bound volumes of deed and property descriptions crowding sagging shelves. The clerk ignored Getorius and explained to Arcadia the intricacies of locating the information she wanted.
While Getorius looked on, annoyed, his wife went along with Protasius’ flirting in order to expedite matters.
After guiding Arcadia by the arm among the narrow stacks, Protasius pulled down a thick volume, then ruffled through pages interleafed with worn maps. He took her finger in his and rested it on an entry. Rabbi David ben Zadok, he told her, lived in the port city of Classis. It seemed the Judean community of Ravenna did not have a rabbi.
After Arcadia murmured her thanks, Protasius grinned, revealing the stained teeth that caused his bad breath, then said that Placidia’s authorization would be valid for lodging at the government mansio, an inn for those on imperial business.
Flushed and annoyed, Getorius pulled
