Longinus nodded. “Whenever such a vessel arrived, I always thought I knew why. But I never asked questions or ventured comments, sir. I just put the new slaves to work.”
“Excellent. You are discreet, indeed. There is nothing more valuable to me than an intelligent man who can keep his eyes open and his mouth closed.” Sejanus arose, came around the desk to sit in a chair at arm’s length from the centurion. “Longinus, the assignment I propose to give you is of immense importance. And it is highly confidential in nature.” His expression and voice were grave. “To accomplish it successfully, the man I choose will have to be always on the alert; he will have to have imagination and initiative; he will need to exercise great caution; and above all, he will have to be someone completely loyal to the Prefect.” For a long moment his quickly darting eyes appraised the soldier. “I know that you are intelligent, Longinus, and I am satisfied that you possess these other qualities.” He leaned forward and tapped the centurion on the knee. “I had a purpose in asking you if you knew Pontius Pilate well. Tomorrow Pilate is to see me. If everything goes as I expect, then we shall start for Capri to see the Emperor, and the Emperor will approve officially what I shall have done already.” He paused and smiled cynically. “You understand, of course?”
Longinus smiled. “I believe, sir, that you speak for the Emperor in such matters, do you not?”
“In all matters, Longinus. The Emperor no longer concerns himself with the affairs of the Empire.” His piggish eyes brightened. “He’s too busy with his astrologers and his philosophers and his”—he smiled with contempt—“his friends.” But suddenly the contemptuous smile was gone, and Sejanus sat back in his chair. “Longinus, Pontius Pilate is anxious to succeed Valerius Gratus as Procurator of Judaea.”
The centurion sensed that the Prefect was waiting for his reaction. But he said nothing. Sejanus leaned forward again. “I am speaking in complete frankness, Longinus. We must understand each other; you must likewise speak frankly to me. But what we say must go no further. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now to get back to Pilate. He’s a man well suited to my purpose, I’m confident.” Once more the Prefect hesitated, as if seeking a way to proceed. “Some years ago, before you went out to Phoenicia, the Emperor’s nephew, General Germanicus, was fatally poisoned at Alexandria. It was rumored at the time that the Emperor had ordered it. Pilate, who served in Gaul under Germanicus, came stoutly to the Emperor’s defense with the story that the poisoning had been done by supporters of the Emperor but without his knowledge, because they had learned that the nephew was plotting the uncle’s downfall. Perhaps you heard something about this?”
“I believe I did hear something to that effect, sir. But that was about seven years ago, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, no doubt. Time passes so fast for me, Centurion. But let’s get back to Pontius Pilate. He’s ambitious, as you suggested, and as I said, he wants to be appointed Procurator in Judaea. So he should be amenable to ... ah, suggestions, eh, Centurion? And he should therefore be a perfect counterpart in Judaea to the Tetrarch Antipas in Galilee.” Sejanus suddenly was staring intently at the sober-faced young soldier. “How well, Longinus, do you know Herod Antipas?”
“I hardly know him at all, sir. I’ve seen him a few times; I used to go into Galilee and other parts of Palestine for our glassware plants; I tried once, I remember, to sell him glassware for the new palace he was building on the Sea of Galilee. But those were business trips, you see, and I rarely saw him even then. I was usually directed to speak with the Tetrarchess or Herod’s steward.”