Eglon added hurriedly, “But I’ve seen him now and can recognize him.” Eglon had no intention of admitting that Peniel had been in his grasp. “He had help with his flight,” the officer lied. “Surprised you came back simply to admit another failure,” Antipas remarked coldly, unhappy that Caiaphas was present to hear more of his retainer’s ineptitude. “Go away, Eglon,” Antipas said, waving a jeweled wine goblet. “If your news is all bad, there’s no reason to bore our guest with it.” “Your pardon, lord,” Eglon corrected, “but the rest of the news is of concern to the cohen hagadol and why I returned at once: Chief Shepherd Zadok is aiding the fugitive.” Caiaphas, whose eyes were bleary from too much drink, pushed himself up from the couch on which he reclined. “Zadok? How’d you know?” “My sources,” Eglon hedged. “Peniel ben Yahtzar is disguised as a shepherd. Put himself ¬under Zadok’s care.”
“This morning you reminded me that Zadok was your problem,” Antipas drawled to the high priest. “Well, Caiaphas? Are you going to do something about him, or ¬only call another session of the council at which Zadok can spout more fables about Yeshua of Nazareth?” Caiaphas was known for watching the direction of the winds of popular opinion before making any decision, but this time he was trapped. By his own decree, speaking well of Yeshua was grounds for excommunication. It was bad enough when the am ha aretz supported the carpenter, but a high religious official helping the fable grow larger by protecting the miraculously healed beggar? Enough! Though both men were puppet rulers propped up by Rome, Caiaphas framed his next words as a formal request, one potentate to another: “By your leave, Lord Antipas,” he requested portentously, “let Eglon go to Beth-lehem with a company of my Temple Guards. On my order Zadok is removed from his post. If the boy is there, Eglon will arrest him, and two problems will be solved at once.”
Even by flickering torchlight, Pilate had visibly aged, Marcus thought. The governor’s eyes appeared hollow, as if he was not sleeping well. His graying hair showed more silver. It was thinner too. Marcus appeared before him in dress uniform, polished and shining. “Welcome, Centurion,” Pilate said, inviting Marcus into his private chambers at Herod the Great’s Jerusalem palace. “Wine for the centurion.” He snapped his fingers. An uneasy silence passed while goblets were filled and the servants dismissed. “¬I’m glad . . . ,” Pilate began awkwardly. Then, more stiffly formal, “Congratulations, First Javelin of Judea.” “Thank you, my lord,” Marcus acknowledged. “A threat to the Empire has been removed,” Pilate said, alluding to the removal of Sejanus and the Praetorian conspiracy. “A shadow over the sun, gone.” What else could a Sejanus appointee do but act shocked, appear grateful, and hope for the best? “The emperor is well?” Marcus inquired. “Well!” Pilate agreed. “Well and reasserting his control over the Imperial provinces.” Some of the conquered territories were administered by the Senate of Rome, but others, like Judea, were expressly reserved for the emperor himself. Till lately that distinction had meant the rule of Sejanus, but no longer. Small wonder Pilate was anxious. “Affairs of state call me,” the governor said. “I must return to Caesarea.” After the season of ¬Pass¬over and certainly by Pentecost the weather was settled enough for safe sea voyaging. Official visitors from Rome could be expected at any time. Pilate needed to get the provincial capital in proper order to receive them. He would try to anticipate any challenges to his performance record he might face. And, of course, he would write glowing
letters to the emperor, thanking the gods for Tiberius’ deliverance from danger. “Your job,” Pilate said, “is to keep order, ¬under Tribune Felix as your commander. First duty:
“This morning you reminded me that Zadok was your problem,” Antipas drawled to the high priest. “Well, Caiaphas? Are you going to do something about him, or ¬only call another session of the council at which Zadok can spout more fables about Yeshua of Nazareth?” Caiaphas was known for watching the direction of the winds of popular opinion before making any decision, but this time he was trapped. By his own decree, speaking well of Yeshua was grounds for excommunication. It was bad enough when the am ha aretz supported the carpenter, but a high religious official helping the fable grow larger by protecting the miraculously healed beggar? Enough! Though both men were puppet rulers propped up by Rome, Caiaphas framed his next words as a formal request, one potentate to another: “By your leave, Lord Antipas,” he requested portentously, “let Eglon go to Beth-lehem with a company of my Temple Guards. On my order Zadok is removed from his post. If the boy is there, Eglon will arrest him, and two problems will be solved at once.”
Even by flickering torchlight, Pilate had visibly aged, Marcus thought. The governor’s eyes appeared hollow, as if he was not sleeping well. His graying hair showed more silver. It was thinner too. Marcus appeared before him in dress uniform, polished and shining. “Welcome, Centurion,” Pilate said, inviting Marcus into his private chambers at Herod the Great’s Jerusalem palace. “Wine for the centurion.” He snapped his fingers. An uneasy silence passed while goblets were filled and the servants dismissed. “¬I’m glad . . . ,” Pilate began awkwardly. Then, more stiffly formal, “Congratulations, First Javelin of Judea.” “Thank you, my lord,” Marcus acknowledged. “A threat to the Empire has been removed,” Pilate said, alluding to the removal of Sejanus and the Praetorian conspiracy. “A shadow over the sun, gone.” What else could a Sejanus appointee do but act shocked, appear grateful, and hope for the best? “The emperor is well?” Marcus inquired. “Well!” Pilate agreed. “Well and reasserting his control over the Imperial provinces.” Some of the conquered territories were administered by the Senate of Rome, but others, like Judea, were expressly reserved for the emperor himself. Till lately that distinction had meant the rule of Sejanus, but no longer. Small wonder Pilate was anxious. “Affairs of state call me,” the governor said. “I must return to Caesarea.” After the season of ¬Pass¬over and certainly by Pentecost the weather was settled enough for safe sea voyaging. Official visitors from Rome could be expected at any time. Pilate needed to get the provincial capital in proper order to receive them. He would try to anticipate any challenges to his performance record he might face. And, of course, he would write glowing
letters to the emperor, thanking the gods for Tiberius’ deliverance from danger. “Your job,” Pilate said, “is to keep order, ¬under Tribune Felix as your commander. First duty:
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