From the archway of the garrison courtyard, a quavering wail blew in like a hot dusty wind: “My child! Give me my child!”
A distraught and disheveled Hebrew woman rushed up to Valerius. “My name is Deborah. I’m the mother of the child you found. Four Syrian men invaded my home, bound and gagged me and stole my baby boy!”
Drawing near to Zipporah who had the infant in her arms, she held out a finger, and the baby reached out and squeezed it tightly. She declared, “See? That’s him, that’s my child!” She reached for the infant. Zipporah hesitated, then saw Valerius gesture at her to leave. Zipporah hurried out of the courtyard with the baby.
Valerius spoke gently with the distressed Deborah, trying to calm her down. He instructed one of the other midwives to take care of her and make tea for her.
Two hours later, a Roman couple prominent in the city, Julia and Servilius, arrived with a retinue of servants. Servilius was thin, dark and scowling, the same height as his wife. His muscular arms were those of a man used to physical exertion. Julia was taller than most Roman women, with a stylish coif and finely sculpted features.
Valerius saw Julia following his every move with her eyes, moistening her lips. She was powerfully attractive. He wondered if she’d recognized him as the Legate.
Her story was that with her maidservants, she’d been on the way to visit her sister, when on a side street, a gang of masked thugs forcibly took the baby from her arms.
“Thugs?” asked Valerius.
“I think they were Syrians,” she said, meeting his eyes. “We’ve seen many of them causing trouble in our streets.”
“And the reason you had no armed escort?”
“My sister lives only a stone’s throw from our home. I’d never needed protection in a thousand times visiting her. May I?” She peered into the infant’s face. A tear fell from her eye. “Of course. This is my child.”
A frustrated Valerius glared at the Hebrew Deborah as well as Julia, her husband and their entourage. “I’ve had enough of this. Someone is lying. Get out of here, the lot of you. Come back tomorrow for my ruling.”
He saw that both women were passionate in their need to possess this infant, but obviously for very different reasons.
He turned to Flavius. “Either of these women could be telling the truth. Go to their neighborhoods, talk to people who know of them, and find out what you can.”
Flavius returned in the early evening. “I couldn’t determine anything with certainty. In the Roman precinct, most agree with Julia’s story, yet some say they don’t know. The same goes for Deborah’s neighbors in the run-down Hebrew section where she lives.”
“What of Julia’s husband, this Servilius?” Valerius asked.
“A horse trainer and trader, wealthy enough; he owns over a hundred horses. He and his wife have four daughters and no son to inherit their property.”
“Hmm,” Valerius replied. “That would give them a reason to be deceitful.”
Flavius continued, “Her servants swear that she was pregnant recently, yet I couldn’t tell if they were being truthful. As for the Hebrew Deborah, she’s a poor woman, unmarried.”
“Is Deborah a religious Hebrew?”
“Yes. She lives with her parents, and they both say she gave birth recently to a boy-child. She’s something of the Pharisee type; her attitude towards us Romans is just on the verge of hostile.”
“How likely would you say it is, Flavius, that these women each had a child kidnapped?”
“Two kidnappings by thugs on the same day? Could happen.”
“Do these women claim to have given the boy a name?”
“Deborah says he is Jeremiah; Julia and Servilius call him Marcus.”
Valerius laughed. “Marcus, eh? Do they know that’s my brother’s name?”
“It’s become a popular name, sir.”
“Thanks to my brother?”
“The people love him, sir. If they knew you, they’d love you too.”
“Me, lovable? Bridle your imagination Flavius. Maybe Julia is just trying to impress me with that name to gain my favor.”
That night in his chamber, he sat in bed sipping a bowl of wine and reading one of Horace’s Odes to Venus.
Desist, fierce mother of pretty Cupids;
Do not bend my inflexible five decades
To your tender command; go away—
Attend to the fluent prayers of younger men.
He didn’t have five decades behind him – not quite four – yet Horace’s sentiment rang warning bells in him. Love would be a major burden for him now, a distraction. Thinking about Samara had made him wonder if he could avoid being trapped by his soul into love.
Suddenly he heard the rustling of the drapes at his chamber door. He was alarmed to see Julia, the horse trader’s wife, her tall frame leaning languidly against the doorframe.
What He a striking woman. Flashing brown eyes, full mouth. “How did you get into the garrison? And into my chambers?”
“Your sentries had no problem letting me in to see you. I said I was expected. Evidently they found me credible.”
Valerius stood and said quietly, “Madam – ”
She shrugged off her cloak, which fell to the floor. “How formal you are. Your good breeding shows, centurion. You have uncommon good looks, and those penetrating eyes. Frankly, it seems to me that a little love affair could be rewarding in many ways.”
She came close. He could feel the warmth of her breath, and the spice of her perfume began to intoxicate him. Why couldn’t she be Samara?
She smiled, pulling out a hairpin, and her lustrous wavy hair tumbled past her shoulders. She ran a finger down his muscular arm, and a flash of heat blasted his groin.
She whispered, “I must have the boy infant to carry on my husband’s line. The Romans in Judea would not be happy if you gave my child to a Hebrew.”
“Are you’re still saying that the baby is yours?”
“Of course the child is mine,” she said. “I wouldn’t want a Hebrew woman’s child, would I?”
“You might.”
She unfastened the brooch that held her dress together below her breasts, and the sudden nakedness of her white shoulders aroused him further.
“You’d best just give in, soldier. Let me have the baby. It would mean little to you, and I would give you more than you can imagine. Starting right now. Do you have a good imagination, centurion?”
The morning light had barely crept into his chamber when Valerius got out of bed, energized and confident. Although pressure had built on him from all quarters about this decision, he knew what he had to do.
First, he sent messages to Deborah and Julia to come to the hearing that afternoon in the garrison’s courtyard. Next he told Flavius to summon Marionus, the Roman tribune in residence.
From his years in Alexandria and other provinces, Valerius well knew the conceits and attitudes of tribunes like Marionus. They were supposedly representatives of the common people, yet in the Empire they were often unofficial stand-ins for powerful Senators and merchants. He was more than likely in the employ of Tullius.
Valerius was enjoying an early breakfast of bread, grapes and ostrich egg while he read a report from Rome by the Minister of Public Welfare. His appetite faded as he read. Its topic was bread distribution from boats anchored on the Tiber River where people lined up for their doles, but many were turned away. He snorted in annoyance. The report examined in detail whether people liked their bread crusty or soft. What irrelevant details in these reports! What about the thousands that had no bread at all?
“Sir,” said Flavius, “about a hundred Hebrews have gathered in the street outside the main gate. They’re peaceful so far.”
“Go and pick a few dozen of them to come in and attend the hearing. We’ll let the Roman couple bring their people also.”
Marionus, grey-haired and in a silk toga, arrived with two bodyguards in armor. Valerius conferred with him, then sent word for the two claimant women and the others to enter the courtyard.
Deborah came in, staring defiantly, followed by Julia and Servilius. The other Romans and Hebrews slowly entered, looking warily at each other. Finally came Zipporah, carrying the infant.
Marionus and Valerius exchanged a long look in silent acknowledgment of the undercover role Legate Valerius was playing as a centurion, and now as a judge.
All took seats on low benches, except for Valerius, who sat in his raised chair. He called the two women to come forward.
“Deborah, tell me your claim to this child.”
He kept his face stiff, but he was alarmed by this gaunt young woman with long ropy locks of brown hair. She projected an intensity bordering on fury. Her eyes flashed through her tears as she stood before him, rocking on her heels.
“This child is my Jeremiah, whom I love. His father was a Roman soldier who promised to marry me, and then left Jerusalem without a word. Though it was a sin for me to lay with that man, Jeremiah is flesh of my flesh. I’m seeking a Hebrew husband so he has a proper father. If I cannot find one” – tears were streaming down her face – “I may give my child to a Hebrew family.”
Valerius nodded. He felt his eyes moisten and he swallowed, keeping his face impassive. He addressed Julia: “And you, Madam?”
Julia’s face was hard, and she averted Valerius’ eyes. She was obviously still unhappy about being booted out of his bedchamber the night before.
“Centurion,” she said, “you must give me back my little son Marcus. He’s no Hebrew. We waited for him for so many years. I have four daughters, and Marcus is my first and only son. He shall inherit our business and the greatest portion of our property, and I’m never going to let go of him.” She returned to her bench and sat by her husband.
“Very well,” said Valerius, “here is my ruling. This child is only here today because a Roman officer – myself – saved him from the slave market. You’re all under Roman law here. This child shall go only to a mother who shall raise him to worship the Roman Emperor and the Roman gods and goddesses.”
Julia looked at her husband; they both nodded. “Of course.”
Deborah was still standing, speechless. Tears rose in her eyes. “No Hebrew mother could permit her child to worship the Roman gods.”
”You could raise him Hebrew, but you’d have to bring him to Roman religious ceremonies and teach him the Roman religion.”
“My people would not approve,” Deborah protested.
“If you desire the child, you’d have to agree.”
There was a long silence. Finally Deborah stared Valerius full in the face.
“Because of what you are demanding me to do, I have to give my child’s fate to the Lord now.”
“Please explain,” said Valerius, feeling the anguish in her words.
“You, sir, must know that I could never transgress the law of my people so grievously. The choice you are giving me is no choice at all. If I gave my son up to this lying Roman couple – ” at her words Servilius stood, until Valerius gave him a harsh look and he sat again – “they’d have him saying your prayers and worshipping your deities, and I’d also have to send him to your religious ceremonies. Either way, my Jeremiah would be tainted and influenced by your false Roman deities.”
In the back of the courtyard, the Romans in attendance started to mutter.
“Just imagine how my people would respond to seeing me taking him to pagan temples. Do you think there’s even a chance that my clan would go on accepting me? Or him? No. A few might sympathize with my plight, but no Hebrew could really accept a Hebrew mother who raised her child in such a contradictory way. My son and I would both quickly become outcasts.”
Now, also the Hebrews in the courtyard began to murmur.
“Yet that’s not the worst of it. If I made him worship your gods, I’d personally be committing a sin by supporting your pagan ways, and I’d be losing any hope for the Lord’s favor. I’d be condemning my very soul. By giving up my child, at least I’d not be involved in any way with your idol worship!”
The entire crowd, Hebrews, Romans and the others, all began talking loudly and excitedly as she went on.
“I refuse to destroy my soul, no matter how much I desire to raise my son. Our prophets have shown us time and again that sometimes staying in line with the Lord can demand the worst kind of heartbreaking sacrifice. I shall not disobey God’s laws, no matter how much my heart may cry.”
“Then,” declared Valerius, “you cannot raise the boy.”
Her face fell in despair. “So I must try to forget him, and ask the Lord to help me with my sorrow.” She turned and began walking towards the archway that led out of the courtyard.
“Come back and claim your son, Deborah,” Valerius commanded. “I’ve seen your truth. You may raise him as you see fit, for he’s surely yours. You’ve shown me that in many ways.”
The crowd fell into stunned silence. Deborah turned on her heel and froze, staring unbelieving at Valerius. When he beckoned her toward the child, she rushed to Zipporah and took the baby in her arms, standing transfixed with tenderness.
The crowd rose to their feet, exclaiming in a hubbub of excitement.
Julia and Servilius talked intently to each other, puzzled and angry. Valerius heard the horse trader ask his wife, “How could he disfavor us? He’s a Roman officer, sworn to loyalty to Rome.”
Valerius raised his voice: “As for you, Julia and Servilius, you’ve willfully brought shame on Rome. Be thankful that I don’t prosecute you for testifying falsely. Leave, Julia, before I make you sorry you ever saw me.”
Servilius, his face white, rose to his feet. “I understand, sir, I do.” He gave his wife a black look as their party hurried out of the courtyard.
As Julia was departing, Valerius’ eyes lingered on her long, lean back. He wondered if he’d have been able to resist her had she come to his quarters for some reason other than child-stealing. He thought again of Samara and felt his heart wish it had been her slipping into his bedchamber the night before.
He felt a tugging at his sleeve. Tearfully, Deborah said, “Bless you. I owe you for returning my son.”
Valerius shook his head. “You were ready to give up her child because of your religious beliefs. You owe having your son back only to your devotion to your Lord.”
She left in a welter of joyful tears, surrounded by Hebrew women.
Marionus came forward and shook Valerius’ hand solemnly. Valerius wondered why he’d gone a bit pale; was he afraid of the consequences of the baby being given to a Hebrew?
“You made a difficult decision, Legate.”
“I
chose not to risk more ill will from the Hebrews. I had many reasons for
believing Deborah’s claim and for disbelieving Julia’s. Don’t you agree?”
“Oh, surely your wisdom will be recognized in Rome.”
Valerius snorted. Oh, surely. He had the distinct feeling that Marionus saw Valerius as a man up to his neck in hot water. He saluted the Tribune, who turned and left the courtyard with his retinue.
Valerius started towards his quarters. He didn’t get far before a voice behind him said loudly, “Wait a moment, Legate Severus Valerius.”
Valerius fumed. Who’s violating my disguise and addressing me in public as Legate? He turned angrily to stare at the bland, smooth, round face of a man carrying a small white dog. Aspergus the lawyer. Tullius’ henchman.
Valerius exhaled. “Counselor, you know you shouldn’t address me by my true name and title here.”
“Come, now. Don’t you think your little display of justice means you’ve been recognized by the people?” he smiled. Valerius noticed with distaste that the shaggy little Maltese in his arms had large, fancy dog tags made of gold.
Valerius said, “Perhaps you’re right. By tomorrow the word will spread in the streets that Centurion Valerius is Legate Valerius. Well, if my undercover role had to come to an end, it was good that it ended in the cause of justice. But why are you here, Aspergus? I doubt if it’s to celebrate my pro-Hebrew ruling.”
“Just to acknowledge you, Legate,” he said through the false smile which made Valerius’ bile rise. “By showing favor to the subject people here, you may be keeping the lid on a boiling pot. On the other hand, you may be feeding their rebelliousness. That’s what Senator Tullius thinks.”
“Senator Tullius doesn’t understand Jerusalem.”
“Maybe not. Yet remember: if a new insurrection breaks out, which the Jupiter temple break-in might indicate, this city will fill with Roman troops before you know it. And you’ll have yourself to thank for it.”
“Counselor, your misbegotten fantasies about the future of Jerusalem is just that: fantasies, both wishful and greedy.” Valerius brusquely strode away.
This dog of a lawyer represented the dogs in the Senate who had nothing better to do than plan ways of plundering the provinces. Luckily there are Senators like my old friend Gaius Metellus who are often able to prevent the worst abuses of power.
Valerius unclasped his armor and tossed it at Rufus, who scrambled to retrieve it. Flavius, Zipporah and a handful of centurions gathered around Valerius, talking excitedly. He noticed a woman lingering near the exit, the lower part of her face covered, and his skin tingled. That looks like Samara.
He started to approach her, but people bunched in front of him. Rufus asked, “How were you so sure about the baby’s real mother?”
Craning his neck to see the mystery woman, Valerius replied, “How likely would it be for local Syrians to take the risk of kidnapping a boy baby from a well-to-do Roman family?”
“You’re right,” said Flavius. “I suppose not very. But what do you make of this Deborah being ready to give up her own child?”
“Wasn’t it obvious? If she were a liar, just shopping for a boy-child to support her in her old age, a person like that might easily agree to raise the boy to worship our gods. However, she turned the child down when she thought that to have him would mean she herself would be disobeying their God, thereby committing a sin, let alone the fact that her Hebrew clan would ostracize her. That’s when I knew for sure she was not lying.”
“Master,” said Rufus, “you’re as smart as any Emperor. In fact, you should become one.”
Valerius gave him a glare. “Don’t, Rufus.”
Zipporah was gazing with respect at Valerius. “A second Solomon,” she declared.
Valerius chuckled. That doesn’t say much for the first one. Puzzled, he asked, “Why do you say that? Tell me more about your Solomon.”
Zipporah proudly said, “King Solomon was our wisest ruler. He ruled by his heart, and was able to discern between the truth and the lie. He once settled a dispute about an infant between two women who each claimed they were the mother. After he listened closely to both of them, he was able to discern which one was telling the truth. You, sir, faced with both women claiming the baby, had the wisdom that could listen to their hearts and hear the truth.”
Valerius, touched by her sincerity, replied, “I hope I shall be able to live up to the wisdom of your Solomon. But do me a favor – don’t go around calling me the second Solomon.” He couldn’t afford to have the people of Jerusalem, especially the Romans who would be upset by his ruling, thinking of him as being somehow like a figure in Hebrew scripture.
The incident stirred a faint memory from his boyhood. He couldn’t have been more than six. He’d liked to hear stories from his uncle the Emperor Antoninus, who told him a few tales from Hebrew lore. Was that where Valerius had first heard of King Solomon? He recalled vaguely the Emperor even inviting a rabbi to the imperial palace for long private conversations.
It was good to be bringing this to mind now. Maybe my memories of how the Emperor appreciated Hebrews kept bubbling up and pushed me into wanting to become Legate of Judea. I really wanted to be here to learn more about their way of life and to dig into their beliefs and why they followed them.
Valerius glanced past Zipporah and noticed a woman listening to his conversation. It was that woman! Although the bottom of her face was still covered, he knew those eyes. Grey-green and intense.
“Zipporah,” Valerius breathed anxiously, “tell me. Who is that woman?”
“The one with the scarf over her face? Samara beth Isaac. If you could see her face, you’d know how beautiful she is.”
He found himself flushed, filling with pride, because now Samara had seen him acting as judge, showing that he was just and fair with her people.
Zipporah went on, “She’s brave, too. In her, courage is beauty.”
He vaguely recalled those words. Where had he seen them? They were in the Hebrew inscription on that iron rod cast aside by the temple intruder: Courage is beauty.
He thought of the day he’d met Samara at the market. He hadn’t paid much attention to her eyes then. Yet now he remembered one night before that, when he’d seen those same eyes, with their unique grey-green color, the same long lashes, in a face wrapped in a head-scarf.
These were the eyes he’d seen at the Jupiter temple!
He took a step towards her. She turned abruptly and ran towards the archway to the street.
Now he knew. The intruder who smashed Hadrian’s stone head hadn’t been a man after all. It was her, it was Samara!
“Close the main gates!” Valerius cried, pushing the others aside and rushing after her, but she had already disappeared into the jostling crowd on the street.