“Then bring him here,” she instructed the servant. Could it be, she wondered, that the man is bringing a message from Longinus?
But the legionary had been sent to her by the Procurator. Pilate, he reported, would not be returning to the palace either for the evening meal or to spend the night. He begged to explain to his wife that he had had a very trying day and that he would be engaged until late in the evening. He had agreed to give an audience to the High Priest Caiaphas, and their meeting might well be extended into the night. He had decided, therefore, to forego the privilege and pleasure of dining with the Procuratoress; he would have supper in his quarters and after he had ended his long day’s duties would spend the remainder of the night there.
Her first thought was of getting a message to Longinus. She would write it, seal it fast, and send it by the legionary.
“Thank you,” she said to the soldier. “I shall want you to carry a message to the Fortress.” She stood up. “I’ll go inside and prepare it.” But would it be a discreet thing to do, sending a message to Longinus by this legionary? What if by chance it should fall into other hands, even Pilate’s? “No, there’s no need of my writing it,” she said. “Just tell the Procurator that I thank him for informing me and that I shall see him at his pleasure tomorrow.”
But she would find a way of notifying Longinus. Tullia. Of course. Tullia was one person upon whose loyalty and good judgment she could always depend. When Tullia returned, she would send her to Longinus.
A soft breeze had sprung up and was pushing the storm clouds gently away; the air had cooled; the storm seemed to have been averted for the day. Claudia rose from the bench and returned to her apartment in the palace.
When a few minutes later her maid returned, she was carrying a small wicker basket. “Mistress, I found these in one of the markets near the Temple,” she said, beaming as she held out the basket to Claudia. “I thought you might enjoy them.”
“Fresh figs? And so early?” She picked one up. “It really is a fresh one, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and I’ve washed them. You can eat it right now. I was surprised to find any this early, but the man explained that in some of the warm coves on the protected side of Olivet they often have figs ripening in early April.”
Claudia pulled the fig open and nibbled at the firm reddish flesh inside. “It’s delicious,” she said, “and such a surprise.” She saw that Tullia’s eyes were ablaze with an excitement, however, that no discovery of fresh figs could have provoked. “What is it, little one? What happened? Whom did you see?”