Pilate now served himself a helping of meat.
“Every Jew knows that I am supporting the building of the city wall to the north out of my personal fortune, even though the emperor is more against it than for it. Now that’s not something I would do if I wanted a confrontational policy, is it? Why build you a wall if I only want to batter it down? I only sought to do good with the aqueduct, the stadium, and everything else I proposed! Any time Jews protested, I withdrew; peace is more important. But I can’t step back all the time! I have no intention of making it a regular practice to interfere in matters under the authority of the Jewish courts; I have neither right nor time to do so. This, though, was an exceptional situation. Let no one in Rome or Judaea make the mistake of supposing that I, whom they have only ever known as soft-hearted and agreeable, cannot put my foot down when necessary.”
Herod Antipas grabbed a portion from one of the roasts and put it on his plate. Matthew and Uri did likewise.
“My friend King Herod Antipas agrees,” said Pilate.
“Absolutely,” muttered Antipas as he ate.
“His presence here right now,” Pilate continued, “is highly esteemed and means a lot to me. We share this splendid palace now, and news of that will reach the ears of the powers that be soon enough, if it has not done so already. Our letters are not always answered, but they will understand our present coexistence. The Roman political rabble-rousers who would love to bring my name into disrepute and turn the emperor against me are on the wrong track. Peace and quiet reign in Judaea, and ever shall do so. The close alliance between the king of Judaea and the governor of Galilee is the guarantee.”
“There’s also endless plotting against me,” grumbled Antipas, staring gloomily straight ahead. “Ignorant people are continually needling me; I’m even driven to make war on my own ex-father-in-law! That is something I have no appetite for. My neighbors are being incited from Rome against me, Rome’s loyal ally; that’s going on all the time. The neighboring provinces would be peaceful forever were it not for the internal politicking in Rome that sets them against each other.”
“I can assure you, prefect—” Matthew began, but Pilate cut in, turning to Uri.
“Did you bring a message from Agrippa? If so, what? And to whom?”
Uri had been waiting for the question.
Matthew’s breathing on the other side of the table audibly quickened.
“Yes,” said Uri nonchalantly. “His message to the high priest was that he would leave him in office if he could be king.”
A silence fell.
Matthew’s breathing broke off.
Antipas snorted.
Pilate grunted then fell silent.
The silence persisted.
Uri reached for a plate, took a nice veal escalope and set it on his plate. Only then did he look up.
Matthew was looking at Pilate with a horrified expression on his face, Antipas was grinding his teeth. Uri squinted to the right. Pilate smiled a rueful smile then laughed it off.
“Well, what do you expect? Stands to reason! Let’s eat.”
When the dinner had ended, Pilate patted Uri on the shoulder.
“I hope that went down well, dear Gaius.”
“I’ve never eaten so many delicacies in my life!”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
Matthew and Uri were led down to the front of the palace. They were standing in Temple Square, but it was dark, almost nothing could be seen; the moon was barely shining.
“Stay there!” said a soldier.
Matthew waited until the soldier had moved away before asking:
“Did you really bring a message?”
Uri burst out laughing.
“Whatever I say, you won’t believe it.”
Matthew slowly nodded. There was silence.
“You won’t believe me either,” he said gravely, “but I saved your life. I had you jailed, that’s true, but I told the prefect that you were probably carrying a message from Agrippa. The reason you were not executed is I said you knew something they needed to know. People who know nothing are crucified. I said you knew something important; I saved your life, do you hear?”
Uri shivered.
He was lying. I’m a Roman citizen; that’s why I was released.
Yet what if that wasn’t the reason after all?
A litter with four bearers appeared; it was tiny and ramshackle. They beckoned to Matthew and he got in. The litter was picked up and they set off.
A squadron was left with Uri in front of Herod’s palace.
“Let’s go!” an officer ordered.
Uri made his way alongside the colonnade, in the middle of a procession of soldiers dangling lowered weapons. He was able to take a peek at the hall behind in the light of the torches; under some vaults were a table and chairs, others were empty. He heard a drumming from above and looked up; soldiers were patrolling on the roof of the colonnade. He saw to the right the big palace that had attracted his attention on arrivaclass="underline" that must be the Hasmoneans’ palace. It was less ornamented than Herod’s palace. He spotted behind it a tall, dark, flat-roofed building that was separated from the palace by a wall at least eight cubits high. What could that be, he wondered.
They reached the end of the colonnade and left the square by a gate. A massive citadel with four towers stood before them, and they marched along one of its walls. The Antonia Fortress! Which meant that the flat-roofed building had to be the Temple!
They marched through a gate. Three soldiers accompanied Uri some five floors up a staircase, quite probably in one of the four towers. There he had to go through a door, which was then locked on him.
A terracotta lamp was burning in the room, one exactly like the lamps in use in Rome. There was a couch with a blanket, a copper bowl, a pitcher containing water, another containing wine, a tumbler, and a fruit dish with dried figs, dried dates, and raisins. The room had a window, but high up and not so much a window as an embrasure that had been left between stones at regular intervals to let air into the room or to fire arrows out from. It was a windy night, as could be felt even in the room. This too was a prison, only higher class.
I’m in the Antonia, he said to himself in some amazement.
The fort had been built by Herod the Great and was named after Herod’s patron, Mark Antony. It could have been renamed, given that Mark Antony had been defeated by Octavian, who then became the emperor Augustus, but since Herod also managed to find favor with the latter, he did not do that. It was said that Augustus respected fidelity — or maybe the matter was of no interest to him.
Uri poured some water into the bowl, washed his hands and face, and as on each occasion since he had been placed under arrest, he prayed without being able to put on a phylactery. He also did not know which way was east, so he picked one of the corners at random and, bowing in that direction, recited the Sh’ma.