59
Longinus and the orderly carrying his luggage had almost reached the foot of the Antonia stairway when a soldier came hurrying down the steps behind them. The Procurator Pontius Pilate, the soldier announced, wished to speak immediately with the centurion.
“Take the bags to the pack train,” Longinus instructed his man, “and tell Centurion Cornelius I’ll be there as quickly as the Procurator dismisses me.” Then he went at once to the Procurator’s chamber.
Pontius Pilate was standing before the window, staring in the direction of the forlorn and frightful Hill of the Skull. When he heard the centurion, he turned quickly and advanced toward the center of the chamber. “Have a seat, Centurion,” he said, as he pointed to a chair across the desk from his own. “I’ll detain you only a moment.” His round face lighted with an unctuous smile as he sat down heavily. “You’ll soon be leaving Jerusalem, no doubt?”
“Yes, Excellency. I was on my way, in fact, when your aide overtook me.”
“It occurred to me, though I haven’t seen her since we three were here two days ago, that Lady Claudia might like to ride with you as far as Caesarea. She is weary of Jerusalem, I know, but I’ll not be able to leave here for several days. And at Caesarea you two could enjoy one another’s company until your ship sails for Rome.”
“But I’m not going to Caesarea, Excellency. I’m going to accompany Centurion Cornelius down into Galilee, and from there I’ll cross to Ptolemaïs and get a vessel for Rome.”
“Oh. Well, then, yes.” Pilate’s honeyed smile vanished, and he licked his lips. “I thought you two would welcome an opportunity....” But he did not pursue the thought further. He leaned forward, elbows on desk. “Centurion, this ‘matter of utmost concern’ that takes you to Rome, I wonder if....”
“You read the Prefect’s message,” Longinus said, when the Procurator paused. “And of course, Excellency, I’ve had no further communication from him.”
“The Prefect must be calling you to Rome to discuss the situation out here, Longinus. It would hardly be anything in Rome that he’s concerned about, because you wouldn’t be familiar with affairs there. I’ve been trying to think what it could be that commands his attention here.” Pilate’s expression was grim now, his shallow suavity gone. “It must be that he’s dissatisfied with my governing, or even”—he swallowed, and his face was somber—“that he’s planning to remove me as Procurator and extend Herod’s domain to include Judaea, with that incompetent weasel as king over the entire realm his father ruled.” He paused, his expression questioning. “Herodias’ scheming, I’ll wager.”