“Yes.”
She scowled. “It’s a stern and forbidding pile of stones.”
“You’ll find that most Jewish public buildings are that way, the palaces especially. But once you get inside them, you’re bound to find them enchanting. Herod’s Palace has a sumptuous array of grass and flowers and fountains; you should enjoy your stay there.”
“Perhaps.” She smiled coyly. “It depends.” Then she pointed. “What on earth is that next building? It, too, looks like a fortress.”
“That place is called the Xystus; it’s a Roman-style gymnasium built by King Herod, who also constructed down this way”—he pointed off toward the south—“an open-air theatre and”—he nodded in the opposite direction—“northeast of the Temple area a large hippodrome where he held games and gladiatorial sports modeled after ours at home. But the orthodox Jews will have nothing to do with any of these things; they won’t even go near the places. To do so would violate some of their religious laws.”
The sound of the horses’ hoofs pounding ahead suddenly changed.
“Are we on a bridge?” Claudia asked, as she leaned out left. She rode facing forward, while Longinus sat opposite her, his back to the streets unwinding ahead of them. “Yes, I see we are,” she answered her own question. “And it’s a high one. Look, Longinus, by the Bountiful Mother! That structure across there! It’s ... it’s unbelievable!”
“That’s the Temple,” he announced. “It’s the Jews’ temple to their Yahweh. And it is one of the most gorgeous—if that’s the proper word, Claudia—and costliest buildings in the world. It’s made of white marble, the finest cedarwood, and untold bronze and other materials of the most extravagant quality, and trimmed with sheet gold and precious gems. You’ll see when we cross the bridge and enter its walls.” Their sedan chair was nearing the middle of the viaduct now. “See, it’s a high bridge. It connects Zion Hill, which we’ve just left, with the Temple region. Over there”—he twisted about to point to the Temple on his right and behind him—“is Mount Moriah. Between the two hills is this sharp drop called the Tyropoeon Valley; some call it the Valley of the Cheesemongers. In festival times these hillsides swarm with pilgrims coming from all over the world to worship at the Temple, which they consider the residing place of their Yahweh.” He laughed, then gestured with outflung hands. “But we should have Cornelius here to be your guide. He knows far more about the religious customs and beliefs of the Jews than I do; in fact, we had quite a talk about it on the boat coming out, and I charged him with being a worshiper of the Jews’ god himself.”
Near the end of the towering viaduct the procession stopped, and the soldiers dismounted. Quickly a litter was provided for the Procurator, and then the marching column, with Pilate’s sedan chair in the vanguard and Longinus and Claudia some paces behind him, moved off the viaduct and passed beneath a great arch.
“This is called the Gate Shalleketh,” Longinus told her. “It’s the main gate into the Temple area from the Zion section of the city.”