Page 7 of Unveiled Tamar’s Story (Mysteries & Wonders of the Bible #1)

V alerius strode into the governor’s palace with a nod of greeting to the soldiers guarding the entrance. They all knew him by sight, of course, so they let him pass with a salute with no command to halt and wait to be announced to the governor.

Pilate would be waiting for him. He’d been insistent this morning that Valerius report as soon as the crucifixions were complete.

There had been trouble in the governor’s eyes, more than Valerius had ever seen in them before—and he’d known Pilate long before they ended up in Jerusalem at the same time.

Their families had been friends in Rome for generations.

Pontius was nearly a decade his senior, so they’d never been friends exactly, but he and Valerius’s eldest brother had been close when they were boys.

It was still strange sometimes to realize that Julius’s old chum was now the highest-ranking Roman in Judea. The first time he’d walked in here on official business and seen the familiar, if older, face above the official’s striped toga, he’d nearly laughed at the incongruity of it all.

At this point, however, Valerius had grown accustomed to answering to him, and Pilate, in turn, always seemed relieved to see a face he knew he could trust. Valerius didn’t envy him the constant turmoil that politics inevitably brought with it.

Pilate would have to worry every day of his career about who wanted to discredit him, who wanted to betray him, who would sell his soul for a chance at what Pilate had won.

Give him the certainty of the military any day.

Valerius far preferred climbing the ranks in an orderly, well-organized fashion rather than elbowing and clawing his way to the top of something.

He had been a good soldier from a good family, and so he had been given command of a hundred.

In another year or two, he would be recommended for promotion to a prefect.

If he served well there, perhaps he would eventually become a tribune or even a legate.

But that was years in the future. Today, he would serve to the best of his ability exactly where he was, not scrabble for more.

He’d expected the hall to be calm if busy, filled with officials going about their tasks as Pilate closed his court proceedings for the day and everyone prepared to either join him for the evening meal or, if not invited to do so, go to their own homes for it.

Instead, he stepped into the great hall and raised his eyebrows.

The space was alive with people, all of them vying for attention in a clamor that had the governor clearly frazzled.

Even though he knew Pilate was waiting for him, he wasn’t about to elbow his way through the crowd of what looked like wealthy Jewish men.

He opted for moving to the side of the room and making his way toward the front along the wall.

Snatches of their demands found his ears above the babble of the rest of them.

“…is not deserving of such an honor!”

“What if the zealots steal His body away? It would…”

“…offensive! He is not our king!”

As Valerius watched, Pilate’s face hardened degree by degree from overwhelmed to finished.

Valerius knew the look well. It was the same expression Pilate had worn as a lad when the crush of younger siblings and friends and cousins wanted attention.

At first he would indulge them, but long before Julius ever brushed them aside, Pontius would stand up, stony-faced, and declare the game over.

The younger ones would scamper away, crestfallen.

Because once Pontius declared the fun over, it was over .

He ought to have realized then that his brother’s friend was destined for politics.

Tracking Pilate’s expression with every step, Valerius fought a twitch of his lips. He could see the last ounce of patience draining away. Watch the frazzle turn to authority. Watch the tired man remember that he had the power to shut down every argument.

Did any of those hapless men realize how precarious their situations became the moment he rose from his seat? “Silence.”

He didn’t bellow it. He didn’t have to. There was something about the way he stood, back straight, jaw set, his exhaustion only lending credence to the work he’d done that day. He raised a hand.

The gaggle went quiet.

“Am I correct in assuming that you are all here about Jesus of Nazareth?” A silent chorus of nods.

Pilate scanned the crowd, something in his face relaxing when he spotted Valerius, now at the front of the room.

He waved him forward, and the crowd who had been pressing close to Pilate’s seat retreated a few steps to make room for him.

The governor lifted his brows as Valerius clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave a quick kneel of respect. He was ordering him to rise before he’d even completed the gesture, and he pitched his voice low. “Well? It is over, I assume?”

Valerius nodded. “All three convicts are dead. Jesus expired in the second before the earthquake—the others upon our breaking of their legs.”

Something flashed in Pilate’s eyes at the mention of the earthquake—or perhaps of the timing of it with the Teacher’s death. He nodded. “The bodies?”

“Two of the three had family to come forward to collect the bodies. The third will be buried among the poor.”

One of the men in the crowd was either brave, determined, or stupid. He stepped forward, face flushed red. “I demand to know where the blasphemer has been taken. He had no family property in Judea for His mother to have buried Him.”

Pilate cut a gaze toward the man, irritation ticking in his jaw. “As I already told you, Caiaphas, a man from Arimathea came forward an hour ago and offered use of a tomb. I imagine he has gone to meet the mourners with the body and show them the way.”

Caiaphas…the high priest? Valerius frowned.

He had spotted the high priest from a distance a few times but never close enough to see his face clearly.

All he knew about the man was that he was of the sect that denied the possibility of a resurrection of either body or soul, which pitted him against teachers like Jesus and the Pharisees.

But he knew from Pilate that the governor and high priest had had many occasions to work together over their shared years of service, and generally they were congenial.

That didn’t seem to be the case today.

The man dared to take another step toward Pilate, face stern. “Unacceptable. I demand to know where this tomb is.”

Pilate sighed. “And why is that of any interest to you?”

“Because His disciples are sure to know, of course! And we fear they will steal away the body and then claim the criminal rose from the dead.”

Pilate blinked at him. “I beg your pardon. Rose from the dead?”

Caiaphas waved a hand. “Ridiculous, as well you know. But He made claims about rebuilding the temple of His body in three days.”

Was that amusement in Pilate’s eyes? “I am afraid even I do not have power over the dead. If the man wishes to rise, I cannot stop Him.”

The priest’s face flushed red. “It is deception and theft we wish you to prevent, my lord. If His disciples are permitted to steal the corpse away and then propagate such a myth, then He will cause even more damage than He already has.”

Pilate sighed. “You want a guard for the tomb, is that it?”

Caiaphas nodded.

“You have one.” He cut a gaze to Valerius. “You will see to it?”

Valerius nodded too, his mind already racing through his list of soldiers and how best to divide them into shifts over the next several days. He’d hoped to go straight home from the palace, but he would need to stop by headquarters first and dole out the new assignments.

Ah, well. Mariana had told him via Gaius to see to his duties.

He angled his body away, ready to see to the task the moment Pilate dismissed him.

But instead of giving him the nod of permission, the governor raised a finger.

“A moment, if you please, Valerius.” He said it quietly, in a tone that said he wished to discuss a personal matter, not give a command that could be issued before the crowd.

Then he returned his attention to the others and made quick work of dismissing them.

Valerius stepped back to the wall behind Pilate’s chair until the last of the men had cleared the room, then edged forward again as his old friend sat with another sigh in the governor’s seat. He rubbed at his temples. “What a day.”

“Indeed.” Valerius kept his feet planted in military stance, knowing that, if he dared to relax, his superior would see his impatience. He made himself smile. “I do not envy you your role in all of it, Pontius.”

Pilate huffed a laugh. “Nor should you.” He lowered his hand but stared up at the ornate ceiling instead of looking over at Valerius.

“I have had to do many things in my career that were distasteful. No doubt I have sentenced innocent men to death before. But this one…this one was different. When He gazed into my eyes, I could have sworn He saw all the way to my soul.” He blinked and refocused his gaze on Valerius. “Do you think that mad?”

Valerius shook his head. “Far from it, my lord.”

“Claudia was tormented by dreams of Him last night,” he said of his wife.

Valerius startled a bit. “I did not know she knew of Him.”

“She did not—not to speak of. But she sent me a note during His trial telling me to have nothing to do with His death.” He held out his hands, staring at them as if expecting to see the man’s blood staining them.

“She was inconsolable when I admitted to her midday that my hands were tied, that He was even then being crucified. And when the earthquake hit…I sent for Mariana and the children—I did not know what else to do. No one brings her comfort like your family.”

Valerius had to fight a frown. That messenger must have come after Gaius was dispatched to find him, perhaps even crossed paths with Gaius. “I am certain Mariana was happy to lend any comfort she could.”

Now the governor looked nearly sheepish. “I believe my wife insisted that your family stay the night with her. You know how she loves playing with the children.”

Which meant that if Valerius went home, it would be to an empty house.

He fought back a sigh. “Yes, of course I do. They bring joy wherever they go.” Hence why he could use a dose of it himself.

He needed to take his wife into his arms and hold her tight until the scent of her perfume chased away the stench of death and hatred.

He needed to tickle his daughter until her laughter chased away the echo of screams. He needed to cradle his son until he could believe there was hope and a future.

“You are welcome to come with me now, of course. To dine with us.”

But not to stay, because Mariana and the children would be in Claudia’s quarters all night, and he was certainly not welcome there.

If Claudia decided to dine in her rooms—which she usually did if she was distraught enough to need Mariana’s soothing presence—then it would be only him and the governor reclining at the table, and he’d see his family only for a moment, long enough to greet them and leave again.

Even a moment together was nearly enough to tempt him to undergo a dinner he didn’t feel up for. But he shook his head. “I thank you, my lord, for the generous invitation. But I had better see to this guard, and I do not wish to hold up your repast.”

Pilate’s nod said it was what he expected and that he wasn’t sorry for it. “Very well. I thank you , Valerius, for the company of your family.” His face went soft. “You know how Claudia has hated this place. Your wife’s arrival in Jerusalem has proven the sweetest balm this last year.”

That was Mariana, without question—the sweetest balm.

Valerius couldn’t help but smile at that.

“She is happy to have a friend in Claudia too. You know I do not begrudge Claudia her company. At least”—here he grinned, gratified to see it light a bit of good humor back in Pilate’s eyes as well—“as long as she doesn’t keep her from home too long. ”

“I will make certain your family is escorted home in the morning.”

In which case, Valerius might just assign himself the night shift of the guard.

He didn’t need to, of course—he didn’t need to take any shifts.

But he led his men best when they saw he wasn’t afraid to serve alongside them.

He always took a shift of whatever duty he gave out, assuming he had such leisure.

Not always the first, but often. Not always at night, but sometimes.

Tonight he would. Why not? There was nothing to return home to and, frankly, he wanted to make certain the Teacher was laid to rest with the respect due Him.

He didn’t share the priest’s fear that His disciples would steal Him away—but he wouldn’t put it past the Rabbi’s enemies to try something to discredit Him even further. But they wouldn’t succeed any more than a thief would.

Not on his watch. Not as long as his men were there after him, either. “Where will I find the tomb that was donated?”

Pilate motioned toward a scribe hovering near the exit. “Titus will give you the information. Thank you, Valerius.”

“It is a pleasure to serve, my lord.” He genuflected again and then strode from the court, the scribe falling in beside him as he went.