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“I dreamed that there was a great island jutting out of a body of water. On a headland stood a great castle of brown stone, with windows and walls as far as the eye could see. After a moment, the view turned and I could see a small but prosperous village behind it. It was from this angle that I watched the water lap against the shore and the sun set. Time must have sped up then…it was only a short time before the sun came up. In the morning, the castle was gone, ruined beyond all repair. A wave must have come over the island in the middle of the night, because the village was in shreds. The difference though, was that while the lord of the manor had fled, the villagers were trying their best to eke out a living with what they had left. Before the dream ended, I heard my husband’s laughter.”

Claudia let the silence lapse for a moment before she said, “I think it has to do with The Rabbi.”

The high priestess acknowledged the significance of these words with a slight nod. “I would ask you what makes you think that your dream concerns Yeshua ben Miriam, but it is no secret that he is ill-loved here in Jerusalem.”

“What does my husband have to do with it?”

“I imagine that someone intends to work against Pontius. Someone—or a group of persons—wants to see The Rabbi dead. If they can convince the prefect to assassinate Yeshua ben Miriam, then so much the better.”

“But my hus—
Pontius
—would never do that!” Claudia protested. “He knows that The Rabbi is a good man, that he preaches tolerance and acceptance of those who are not like him. He preaches
love!
”

“Others don’t see Yeshua that way,” Julia warned. “They see him as a troublemaker, as an instigator. He doesn’t follow the rules the way Moses and the prophets did. My priestesses tell me that some call him the King of the Jews.”

“He’s too humble for that.”

“I had the opportunity to meet him the other day and I agree. This is a man that wants to be friends with all who will have him, from the grandest tetrarch to the lowest beggar. This is not a man who wants to destroy the establishment. Maybe make it a little
itchy
, but certainly not destroy it.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

The high priestess contemplated the issue at length. “I wouldn’t tell Pontius that
you
had the dream. I understand that he’s not the most gentle of husbands and I wouldn’t want you to suffer. It happens that we have a priestess by the name of Claudia. Tell him that our Claudia had the dream and you found out about it…”

“Because I had trouble sleeping?” Claudia suggested. “I came to…”

“Aurelia, the priestess who escorted you. She’s of Roman descent.”

“All right. I went to see Aurelia for…”

“A sleeping draft. Chamomile, rosehips, lavender, valerian, linden…if he gets specific.”

“Right, and Claudia came to me while I was waiting to see Aurelia. She shared her dream with me because she was very concerned and hoped that I might get word to my husband.”

“Excellent.”

They discussed a few more minor things and then Julia fetched Sabrina to see Claudia and her guards out to the portico. When the women were gone, the high priestess shook her head at the closed door.

“Too bad he’s going to die anyway.”

Julia walked the line, her confusion evident. Each of them was clearly Roman, yet they did not bear the markings of the equestrian or senatorial classes. The stamping of impatient hooves outside told her that they were not alone.

“You said that you were sent by
Domina
Claudia?”

“Yes, My Lady,” their leader said in Aramaic.

“Why?”

“Lady
Claudia overheard Lord
Pontius tell certain staff members that he intended to summon you sometime today. Lady
Claudia wanted to ensure that you looked your very best—”

“So she sent her entire household?”

The leader chuckled. “Not quite, My Lady. I am Mihalis, Lady
Claudia’s chamberlain. The other man with me is Caius, the master of the wardrobe. We also have Calista, the slave in charge of cosmetics.”

A full-figured woman with blonde hair bowed.

“Nadia, the jeweler.”

The Assyrian woman nodded.

“And Melinda, Lady
Claudia’s hairstylist.

“Do you have somewhere we can work, My Lady?”

“My chamber is fine.”

“We’ll clear out one of the treatment areas,” Tatiana interjected. “Bring your things in there.”

Mihalis thanked her gratefully and hollered something in street Latin. A gang of tanned men began hauling in chests and crates, while the slaves Mihalis had introduced did their best to slip outside.

“One of the treatment areas?” Julia repeated. “Is that really necessary?”

“
Domina
Claudia is a wealthy woman,” Tatiana reminded her. “She likely sent at least a quarter of her wardrobe and jewelry; not to mention that the stylist
and the makeup artist need space to work.”

The chamberlain
spotted the high priestess and scooted over to her. “Is there a brazier in that treatment area? Melinda will need a place to heat her curling tongs.”

“What do you think of this blue outfit?”

Mihalis shook his head. “Too light. This is a high priestess we’re talking about, Caius. We want to ensure His Lordship never forgets her!”

“What about this one?”

“Too sheer. Here, let me.” The chamberlain dove into a pile of clothes.

“Will you two children
stop fighting?
” Melinda demanded. “If I leave these tongs in the fire any longer, they’ll burn my hands off!”

“Here, the shoulders are open on this
chiton
.” Mihalis held up a dress of an indeterminate royal blue material. “Caius, start brushing out the Lady’s hair. I’ll get this on her. Nadia, can you find some
fibulae
to do her shoulders?

“No, My Lady, don’t sit down,” he urged. “You’ll only make this harder!”

Caius gamely began struggling to brush Julia’s hair while Mihalis did his best to get the
chiton
on her. After a moment, they allowed her to sit down, but Caius still had to bob back and forth to avoid Nadia who was struggling with the
fibulae
.

“I swear, she never wears these,” the jeweler grumbled. “Why on earth would she send them if they were hard to open?”

“Because Lady Claudia
never wears
them!” Caius repeated. “And why are you grumbling? I’m the master of the wardrobe and I’m brushing the high priestess’s hair!”

Julia had no experience in the higher class Roman homes, but from what she had learned as a girl, titled slaves were very touchy about their positions. It was likely that Caius had only consented to brush her hair because all they had were the five of them and the wagon drivers. At home, there would be a bevy of slaves—including half a dozen beneath Melinda—who could be assigned to brushing.

“What kind of stone is that?” the high priestess asked as a silver
fibula
flew past the corner of her eye.

“Lapis,” Nadia replied. “It’s the only thing that looks good with this
chiton
. We can get it in great piles from Egypt, but Lady Claudia rarely wears this shade of blue.

“There! Come on, Calista! If you don’t get in here and do her cosmetics, Mihalis will be badgering you, next!”

Calista waved her off. The chamberlain was busy consulting with Melinda on the state of the high priestess’s hair and would be furious if she started on the cosmetics too soon.

“My Lady, do you plait your hair?”

“Regularly,” Julia replied.

“What about the plaited crown?” asked Melinda.

“Too simplistic,” Mihalis replied. “Can you imagine that with all of Lady Claudia’s jewels and cosmetics on her? No…out of the question!”

The two slaves stopped conferring directly and began to fuss and bother over Julia’s hair. Melinda called several times for Nadia to bring her pins, but the chamberlain swatted her away. Caius rolled his eyes about the time the high priestess heard the clink of the tongs lifting off the brazier.

“Are you happy now?” Calista grumbled.

“Just about,” said Mihalis as he supervised Melinda twirling up a lock of hair. “But don’t start on the cosmetics yet…I don’t want you jostling the Lady’s head.”

“Lady Julia, do you have any jewels reserved for the use of the high priestess?” Caius asked after a bit. “I’m sure Mihalis and Nadia would like to go over them while Calista is doing your cosmetics.”

Julia directed Nadia to Livia, who would certainly open the vault with her permission. There were a few torques, armbands and rings; enough to wear to meet the emperor on a few separate occasions, but nothing to make the temple tremendously wealthy.

“Should I go light on her makeup?” Calista was finally opening her cases of cosmetics.

“Y—”

“No!” Melinda interrupted. “We want to make her look like a goddess. Right, Caius?”

“Absolutely!” he exclaimed. “Lady Julia is a representative of Isis on Earth! We want to make sure Lord Pontius knows that Lady Julia is queen wherever the Goddess’s word is law!”

“Gold powder for most of her body,” the hairstylist commanded. “Lapis powder for the lids, kohl for the lashes, some of that red stuff for her lips…do you have a white cream that you can use instead of sweeps of kohl onto the temples?”

“What about scent?” Caius added. “We want His Lordship to think of paradise, don’t we? Calista, do you have jasmine oil?”

The remaining slaves worked furiously, so that when Nadia returned with the jewels, they were ready. The jeweler placed a silver collar around the high priestess’s neck and bands in the shape of vines around each arm. After pawing through a pile of rings, Caius handed her a pair of lapis, one for each hand. Mihalis started to grumble that the rings didn’t match the motif, when he was distracted by the fact that Julia’s ears weren’t pierced.

“Grab those small silver hoops,” he ordered. “We’ll pierce them right now.”

“You pierce them, you die!” the high priestess growled for the first time in a quarter of an hour. “Get me a
palla
or another piece of jewelry if you want; otherwise, I’m leaving.”

“Wait!” Nadia cried as Julia leapt to her feet. “Wait, My Lady!”

The jeweler hurried over and forced the high priestess back into her chair. After a moment, she brought forth a slender circlet of silver and moonstones and set it carefully on Julia’s hair.

“I’ve never seen that before,” Calista said in awe.

“It belongs to the temple,” Caius said knowingly.

“It’s only brought out once a year, on the Goddess’s birthday,” finished Julia.

“I had to plead with Lady Livia to get it out of the treasury,” Nadia explained as she received hairpins from Melinda. “It seemed to me that we had to remind Lord Pontius who he was dealing with.”

The others, who had heard Caius’s comment about Julia being the Goddess personified, shared smiles.

“
Domina
Gaia Julia Gregorii Templis, High Priestess of the Temple of Isis, Jerusalem.”

Pontius Pilatus ignored the herald and adjusted his sprawl on his throne…if you could call it that. Instead of a great wooden chair with scenes of various Roman triumphs—much like the emperor’s—it felt like stone and sat just about as comfortably. It was all right when he was prepared to sit upright in his armor and pay his guest some deference, but when he wanted to wear his senator’s toga and indulge in lassitude, this…
seat
…was the last thing he wanted. The prefect was about to put his feet up on a stool that had been left nearby, but his wife’s fairy of a
cubicularius
was tugging on the edge of his toga.

“
Dominus
, I believe your visitor’s name is
Domina
Julia Templa.”

“So?” Pontius said crossly. “Send
her
in.”

At Mihalis’s gesture, the scribe and a group of guards swept the stool away and replaced it with Claudia’s ceremonial chair. The prefect scowled and snapped his fingers, causing the
cubicularius
to flee. Mihalis stopped long enough to murmur something to someone and that’s when Pontius finally looked up.

For a mere girl, Julia Templa was lovely. Claudia had lent her a royal blue chiton that seemed to catch the gray in the high priestess’s eyes. Her dark blonde hair—which Pontius was certain she generally left alone—had been done up rather ostentatiously and the cosmetics were slightly too bold, but she made up for it in the way she held herself and the subtlety of her jewelry. The prefect’s scribe had lit the brazier usually reserved for Claudia, and as the high priestess sat, Pontius caught sight of the circlet in her hair. Perhaps more gorgeous than anything on her body, it was a gentle mix of silver swirls and vines, set with nearly flawless moonstones. With a little bit more time and direction, the high priestess could move from pretty to stunning…the idea would have made him smile if he wasn’t known for his scowls.

“My Lord bids you welcome,” his scribe said timorously as he took his seat.

“Thank you.” Julia nodded to him and made a gesture of respect toward the prefect as she sat down.

“You are Gaia Templis?”

“Julia Templa,
Dominus
.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“How long have you been a priestess?”

“Since seventeen.”

“And high priestess?”

“For seven years.” Julia selected a goblet of water from a tray after the slave assured her that it came clean and cold from the aqueduct. “I suppose you would like to know my lineage?”

“Sympathetic though she is, I doubt my wife would share her clothes with a Jew.”

The high priestess forced on a smile, as if he hadn’t just insulted her priesthood and at least a quarter of her supplicants, as well.

“I am Julia Templa, born Gaia Julia Gregorii,” she recited. “I am the daughter of Gaia Minerva Claudii, an equestrian. My grandmother was Gaia Paulina Severide, who retired to Jerusalem after the fall of the Republic.”

“Paulina Severina overstepped her bounds,” the prefect grumbled. “Attempts to run for the senate and is rewarded by a change of name and a generous stipend.”