The Procurator stepped back and sank heavily into his chair. For a long moment he sat silent, staring at the floor. Then he raised his eyes to his wife’s bitter, scornful face. “Surely you cannot believe me that stupid, Claudia my dear,” he said quietly, “to think that I haven’t known. Surely you must know that I am not entirely deaf and blind, that I have even contrived to spend many an evening away so that you....” He paused, pensively contemplating the woman before him. “But perhaps you don’t know....”
“Oh, how I despise you!” she screamed. “I knew you were a weakling, a coward, a ... yes, today, even a murderer. But I didn’t know you were a crawling worm who would willingly lend his wife to another man! By all Pluto’s fire-blackened imps, I....”
“But perhaps you don’t know,” the Procurator went on, “that I was commanded by the Prefect and the Emperor, at the time our marriage was arranged, to do everything possible to keep you content in this dismal province ... even to overlooking any indiscretions....”
“Then you’ve been willing to do anything, by the Great Mother, in order to stay in the good graces of old Sejanus,” Claudia hissed. “You’re willing to send a good and innocent man, maybe a god-man, to the cross rather than displease a contemptible High Priest who might complain against you to the Prefect!” She clenched her fists and brought them down, hard, across the desk. “You’re even willing to surrender your wife to another man’s enjoyment in order—you said it—to keep her ‘content’ but really to keep that man from reporting to Sejanus your bumbling incompetence, your foolish provocations, your utter imbecility!” Her voice had risen to a shout. Slowly she moved toward the window, and then she whirled about to face him again. “Well, I’m not ‘content,’ and I never will be ... with you! And by all the gods, I hope Longinus will go to Rome and reveal to Sejanus how miserably you have administered the affairs of the Empire in this province!” She pointed at him from across the room. “And how you have dragged in the dust Rome’s vaunted justice, how in all probability”—her voice dropped to a menacing tone—“you have withheld funds from the Empire’s treasury....”
“No! Oh, no, Claudia! I have kept back nothing due the Empire or the Prefect! Nothing! Not one shekel, not a denarius! Longinus knows it’s true.” He lowered his voice. “Hasn’t he been watching; hasn’t he been reporting? Surely you don’t think I haven’t suspected....” But suddenly he broke off his protests. Quickly crossing the chamber, he opened the door and summoned the centurion. “You have heard my wife’s words?” he asked, as he closed the door behind them.
“I’ve heard excited words,” Longinus replied cautiously. “I didn’t get the full import of them, though.”
“Claudia has been hurling accusations at me. She said she hoped you would report me to the Prefect when you go to....” He paused, and both his face and voice revealed his fear. “The message was from Rome, wasn’t it? From Sejanus? He asked you to report to him on the situation out here, how I’m administering...?”
“He asked me to come at once to Rome, but he said only that it was to meet with him on a matter of utmost concern, the nature of which he did not indicate. Here, Excellency”—he handed the letter to the Procurator—“you may read it yourself.”
Eagerly the Procurator accepted the message. His forehead creased as he studied it. “True,” he said, handing it back to Longinus, “there’s no mention in it of the Procurator. But surely the Prefect will ask you how I’m administering affairs. I beg of you, Centurion, don’t give him an unfavorable report; don’t make any charges against....”
“What of the Galilean you’ve just crucified?” Claudia interrupted. “Can you contend that you even thought you were acting justly? Didn’t you just tell me you found no fault in the man? What else could Longinus tell the Prefect concerning your trial...?”