Someone knocked on the door to Claudia’s apartment, and Tullia was sent to answer it. She ran quickly back into the tepidarium.

“Tertius says there’s a soldier to see you, Mistress, a centurion. He’s waiting in the atrium.”

“Longinus! Oh, by the Bountiful Mother!” But quickly Claudia’s elation subsided. “He must still be in Gaul, though, according to the information Sergius Paulus had from Rome. Still”—her face lighted—“he might have returned early, perhaps, and caught a fast vessel to Caesarea. Bona Dea, Tullia, help me finish dressing! The perfume, that vial”—she pointed—“the Tyrian. And do hurry, Tullia!”

A few minutes later she scurried breathlessly into the atrium. But the soldier was not Longinus. The Centurion Cornelius arose and advanced to meet her. He saw her disappointment and smiled understanding. “I’m sorry, Claudia, but Longinus hasn’t returned to Palestine, nor have we heard at Tiberias when he expects to arrive. I’ve come to bring you a message from the Tetrarch Herod Antipas and the Tetrarchess.”

“I’ll confess I was hoping Longinus had surprised me, Cornelius,” she said, “although I’d heard that he was still in Gaul. Did you know about his assignment out there?”

Cornelius nodded. “Yes. But we understood it was not to be a lengthy mission.”

Claudia motioned to a seat; she sat down and Cornelius sat facing her. She summoned Tertius to bring wine and wafers. “And now, Centurion,” she said, “what is the message you fetch me from Tiberias?”

“They are inviting you and the Procurator to go with them down to Machaerus to spend a holiday season there. And if the Procurator’s duties will not permit his leaving his post, the Tetrarchess hopes that you will join them anyway, together with your servants and any guests you may wish to bring.”

“To Machaerus? That’s the fortress castle on the other side of the Dead Sea, isn’t it, on the southern border of Peraea?”

“Yes, it’s on a high plateau overlooking the Dead Sea, some way south of Mount Nebo.”

“A wild and desolate country, isn’t it? I’ve never been there.”

“I understand so; I’ve never been there myself. A good place, they say in Tiberias, for the sort of holiday the Tetrarch particularly enjoys ... wild, uninhibited, like himself.”

Claudia laughed appreciatively. “It promises to be interesting at any rate. But”—her face clouded perceptibly—“I know that Pilate won’t go. In the first place, he loathes Antipas—and I do, too, as a matter of fact—and in the second place, he wouldn’t venture that far from provincial headquarters. But he might let me go. And it would be a change from this dreary existence.” She brightened. “When are they planning to make this holiday excursion?”

“As a matter of fact, they’ve probably already started. They sent me on ahead in the hope that you might agree to join them; if you should, I’m to escort you and your party to the Jordan, where they plan to meet us. They were to start this morning from Tiberias. If we could leave by tomorrow morning, we would be able to reach the Jordan at about the same time they do. From there we would continue down the Jordan Valley to the Dead Sea and around its eastern shore at the foot of Mount Nebo to Machaerus.”

“How long do they plan to be there?”

“A week or longer, probably longer”—Cornelius smiled glumly—“if the Tetrarch has to recover from one of his usual drunken orgies. But if you should wish to leave earlier, I’d be glad to escort you back to Caesarea. And we’ll see that you don’t ran afoul of Bar Abbas or any of those other zealot cutthroats.”

“I really would like to go, and I see no reason why I shouldn’t, even if Pilate won’t. If I only knew that Longinus would be there.” ... She broke off, laughing. “Cornelius, why do you suppose old Sejanus recalled him to Rome? Do you think it was because of”—she shrugged—“well, us? And do you suppose he’ll continue to provide assignments that will keep him away from Palestine?”

Cornelius shook his head. “I hardly think so, Claudia. The Prefect, in my opinion, summoned him to Rome to inquire about the situation out here. I think he wanted to learn about the temper of the people, how the Jews were taking to Antipas and his new wife, and to the new Procurator; that was one reason, I’m sure. But he was mainly interested in learning whether the revenue was flowing into his treasury without being diverted in part into the coffers of....” He paused.

“Pilate and Antipas?”

“That’s my opinion, Claudia. I don’t believe the Prefect is really concerned with anything beyond keeping the province peacefully paying its taxes. So I’m confident Longinus will be sent back to Palestine, he’s the man Sejanus needs for the job he gave him ... and still needs; he’ll be back, though I’d hesitate to predict when.” He shrugged his shoulders. “For a soldier, I’ve been speaking very freely, and to the wife of the Procurator, at that.”

“And for the wife of the Procurator, so have I. But I’m not naÏve enough to think, Cornelius, that you don’t know just how little I am Pilate’s wife. You must feel free to talk with me in complete frankness, just as I feel free to talk that way with you. And tomorrow, by the gods, Pilate willing or Pilate grumbling—and he won’t grumble at me, by the Great Mother—I’ll start with you for Machaerus.”