As they sat at a table, Samara told the innkeeper, “Bring some tea and dolmas.” She loved the plump little dolmas they served here, rice and currants oozing out of their grape-leaf jackets.
She eyed the Roman, picturing what he would look like if she threw the dolmas at him, splattering all over his handsome face and broad chest.
“What do you mean,” she asked, “that you smashed the head of the Emperor?”
“First tell me what you were doing in the temple where I caught you.”
She laughed. “You were not able to catch me. And it’s not a real temple. It’s an homage to one of your Roman myths. You tore down the real Temple.”
“Me? It was not me. That was a hundred years ago.”
She frowned. Did he identify so little with his own people and what they had done? “It feels like yesterday to me, as a Hebrew.”
“Are you a Zealot?”
“I’m a merchant. I trade for a thousand varieties of goods.”
“Weaponry?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. Textiles. Foodstuffs. Artwork. Jewelry. Incense.”
“So what were you seeking in the Jupiter temple?”
She felt the angry blood rise to her face. “What you have stolen from us!”
Through tears, rage animating her words, she said, “Hebrew merchants are being victimized by a wave of robberies. They started a decade ago, and they’re increasing rapidly. Significant amounts of our hard-earned resources are being drained off!”
Valerius said, “Quit using us as a convenient scapegoat. You have no proof that Romans are involved.”
Samara retorted, “Even my own family’s storeroom was recently intruded upon by thieves! So, I intruded upon your so-called temple because of rumors that Roman thieves and their underlings are hiding stolen property there!”
Valerius responded abruptly, “Are you now willing to acknowledge how wrong you are?”
“No! Those robbers took our intricately cast bronze and iron pieces, some of the most valuable and beautiful I’ve ever seen. I still believe Romans are somehow responsible for this thievery.”
Valerius shook his head. “If Romans stole those goods, I’d know about it.”
“Are you sure?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, not really. But I can find out. I can learn who did it and bring them to justice.”
“And return my goods?”
“Yes, if I can locate them.”
“I reported the theft to the Roman constabulary, and they certainly didn’t show much interest. No wonder I have a skeptical view of the Roman authorities.”
“Samara, unless you come to trust us, we can never trust you.”
It felt strange to her for him to say her name. “If Rome would make peace with us, and acknowledge us for who we are, Rome would prosper and so would we. We are well known as excellent artisans and business people.”
She leaned across the table close to him and whispered, watching his face.
“We are great artisans, Valerius, and can create things Rome has never even dreamt of. We’re experts at commerce, and we could become your greatest ally in creating a flood of beautiful goods into the Empire. Unfetter us! – and we shall make Judea your greatest province.”
Valerius said, “You might be surprised to know that I believe what you are saying about Hebrew business acumen. I have already been considering how to use Hebrew skills for our purposes.”
“Good! Also, we could supply warriors to help you conquer the barbarians and the Parthians. Just give us our land back, and let us reinstate our kings and our Sanhedrin and rebuild our Temple. You can keep your own temples here, other than the Jupiter temple, as long as we’re not forced to worship in them.”
Valerius breathed deeply and looked from left to right. He stood up, sat down, stood up again. People at nearby tables were looking at them curiously, and he saw Samara stiffening in anticipation of what he would say.
Finally he sat again.
“Samara, you’re a headstrong, stubborn woman. You belong to a conquered nation. You’re vainglorious to think that your people could ever rule this land again.”
“We should, though. You know in your heart that we should.”
“You don’t know my heart. Besides, your ideas would directly interfere with the plans of those in power.”
She said, “You mean the ones who plan to tear down the Old Quarter.”
He looked at her sharply. “How did you learn about that?”
“How dare you try to keep it secret?”
“I’m not one of the architects of the plan. I have no power to stop it.”
“Even though you’re Legate?”
“Over some issues I have power. Of others, I scarcely even have knowledge.”
“Then if you have so little power, I’m wasting my time with you. Goodbye, Sir Roman.” She stood.
“Wait!” he cried out, standing. “At least wait for the tea.”
“Tea?” She laughed dismissively. “Not likely. I have work to do. If you’re not going to arrest me, I’m off. You deserve whatever you get from the rebels.”
I’m going to flee as far as I can from this arrogant man, she thought. I’ll meet with some of my radical friends and make plans with them for more ways to hurt Rome. She walked out.
He tossed some coins on the table and followed her to the street. She strode away, but he stayed close behind her.
She turned and glared at him. “If you keep after me, you’ll regret it.”
“Samara, if you leave now, you shall never hear how I smashed Hadrian’s head.”
She stopped in her tracks and turned to him.