“Please, pretty maiden, in the name of Apollo and Aphrodite I implore your favors.” Procula whipped about and saw a handsome young Syrian barely beyond his teens. “Let me show you a beautiful grove yonder,” the youth continued.
“No!” Procula hurried away in alarm. Several other men also accosted her, only more brazenly. Quickly wrapping a shawl over her lower face, Procula ran away from the park in terror. The men laughed, but did not try to run after her because there were so many other girls about. Only later did Procula learn that unescorted women went to Daphne for only one purpose…No, she would not tell Pilate about Daphne.
The next day, she shopped zealously to replace her dwindling supply of necessities, which Pilate thought better called luxuries. For their palace at Caesarea she purchased rich tapestries, bas-reliefs, urns, statuettes, ivories, an inlaid table, Damascene silver, and other magnificently wrought furnishings. Pilate had to hire an extra wagon just to cart it all back to Judea.
His larger interests that spring were in Jerusalem. When he returned to the city at the Passover, Pilate spent most of his time on the hills with the construction crews. The aqueduct was taking shape. Herod’s segment had been repaired and was now channeling water into the pools near Bethlehem. The lengthy conduit from the pools to Jerusalem was nearly completed, and the Hinnom water bridge was rising from the valley. However, the tunnel under Bethlehem had been plagued by cave-ins, and disagreements between priests and workmen were delaying modification of the temple cisterns.
However, most of the engineering problems had been surmounted, and Pilate noted, with the consummate satisfaction only administrators can generate, that project costs were not exceeding estimates by too vast a margin. His architects promised him that water would be flowing into Jerusalem the following spring.
And the schedule held true. For the inauguration of his water system, Pilate paid an official visit to Jerusalem late in May of 29. A slender aqueduct of Romanesque arches now bridged the Hinnom Valley, the largest visible change wrought by the project. At the point where the flume penetrated the south wall of Jerusalem, sluice gates had been constructed, and it was here that Pilate and his aides assembled with the temple authorities for the ceremonial opening of the water system.
At high noon, a polished, sun-reflecting shield had signaled a relay station halfway to the pools, which, in turn, flashed that reservoir to open its valves into the aqueduct. It had taken more than an hour for the water to reach the Hinnom bridge and finally the sluice gates, where it was now overflowing and spilling down the sides of the city wall.
Pilate knew better than to give a long public address on that muggy afternoon. The people wanted to hear the gurgle of water, not the grandiloquence of a governor. After a few remarks on the rather obvious theme, “Judea-Roman Friendship,” Pilate signaled the men of the Antonia cohort, who snapped to attention in ranks along the south wall. Trumpeters blasted out a brassy fanfare, which was answered by the flapping of terrified doves taking to the air. Solemnly relishing his grand moment, the prefect of Judea lifted open the valve and the waters gushed into Jerusalem.
Pilate was highly pleased with the success of his project, though disappointed that more townspeople had not turned out for the opening ceremonies. But a tour of the city’s new fountains the next day showed that the water was being used and appreciated. Children merrily splashed each other in the surrounding pools while their mothers filled waterpots. And it even seemed as if the sheep population of Jerusalem was bleating less plaintively.
Toward nightfall, a servant of the high priest named Malchus appeared at the Herodian palace with an urgent message for Pilate.
“Pardon my disturbing you, Excellency,” he said with Oriental obsequiousness, “but my Lord Joseph Caiaphas regrets to inform you that despite his best efforts, word is out about the temple treasury’s being used to finance the aqueduct. The populace is very angry.”
“Who told them?” asked Pilate, struggling to keep his temper under control.
“If I may venture an opinion, sir, many in the Sanhedrin knew of the arrangement, and Rabbi Helcias will certainly have had to account for the expended funds, so it would have been difficult to suppress the information in any case.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Pilate snapped. “It’s clear that the confidence was well kept until today. Who told the people?”
Malchus hesitated a moment, then replied, “It was late this afternoon…in the outer court of the temple. A zealous young orator of the Herodian party—they’re pro-Romans, as you know—well, this man was praising you, the aqueduct, and Rome itself. He got carried away and started taunting those who oppose Roman administration of Judea. ‘Rome built an aqueduct, but what have they done for the city?’ he cried. Just then, someone from the crowd shouted, ‘Rome didn’t pay for the aqueduct! The Corban did!’”
“Who called out?”
“We don’t know, Excellency. We really don’t know.”
“Then what happened?”
“Chaos broke out. They started yelling for Helcias, the temple treasurer. In tears he told the crowd that the Jewish authorities had been forced in this matter. But finally he regained control of himself and told the people that, after all, the aqueduct was necessary, and that they should go home and not make trouble.”
“What will happen now?”
“My Lord Caiaphas hopes the matter will pass, but he fears the worst. This is why he sent me to forewarn you, so that you could take the necessary precautions.”
“Decent of him.” It was said in a marginal tone, indicating either mockery or sincerity. “That will be all, Malchus.”
Pilate summoned several aides and dispatched them into the city to check on Malchus’s story and sound out the mood of the citizenry. They returned to report a gathering storm. Ironically, each fountain at the various crossroads of Jerusalem was serving as a rallying point for excited clusters of people. Young extremist orators, members of the violently anti-Roman Zealot party, were moving in to capitalize on the situation, and Jerusalemites were being summoned to a mass rally at the temple early the next morning.
Another high priest’s messenger brought word that a raiding party had smashed the sluice gates of the aqueduct, but that Caiaphas had dispatched some of his temple guard to protect the Jerusalem segment of the water system. He suggested that Pilate send auxiliaries to defend the Hinnom bridge.
Pilate alerted the tribune at the Antonia, who dispatched the necessary troops. Later that night they held a strategy session. That there would be a mass demonstration the next morning was beyond all doubt. The only point at issue was how to control it. Pilate gave much thought to this problem, well aware that he could not afford another defeat such as he had been forced to accept on the matter of the standards. The tribune at the Antonia urged him to saturate the city with well-armed troops, arguing that the mere visibility of such power would stop any trouble well before it began.
Pilate, however, remembering how the throng had behaved at sword-point in Caesarea, was reluctant to display his troops unless it were absolutely necessary. He was convinced that the people, seeing themselves surrounded by troops, might react with peculiar frenzy, forcing a slaughter that might otherwise be avoided. But Pilate had no intention of losing control of the populace. After much deliberation, he devised an unorthodox plan. Somewhat skeptical of its success, the tribune accepted his orders and left the palace to prepare his troops for the following day.