Free The Hidden Flame by Janette Oke

met Julian in years past when he had served one of the officers sent home with Pilate. Linux went into the front room to find the manservant bent over the breastplate worn by Roman officers on parade.
    "Why, pray tell, are you bothering with that?"
    "Word came this morning, sir. The legate will see you." The man was using a mixture of old paraffin and sand to scrape away two years' worth of grime. The breastplate was beginning to gleam like polished silver. "I wanted to let you sleep as long as possible, after your being away until late." He polished more fiercely still. "Alone."
    "I was looking for a friend, a former centurion."
    He was clearly accustomed to the ways of Roman officers, for he sniffed his disbelief. "No doubt the lady you visited was married."
    Linux started to correct him, then decided it would make no difference to the old man. "Have you any word of your former master?"
    "Nary a whisper since he left for Rome with Pilate. Which does not bode well." Julian scrubbed vigorously along one edge. "There's rumors enough around the fortress. How every officer is to be sent home in disgrace. Or worse."
    Linux thought of the reason behind his request for a meeting with the legate, and stuffed his mouth full of bread and dates.
    "Times've changed since you were away," Julian went on darkly. "The legate's ordered all Romans to travel in force whenever they go out after dark."
    "What, here in Jerusalem?"
    "There've been incidents. Most have been hushed up, on account of how nobody wants to give the locals reason to think we're going soft. But a couple of soldiers went off drinking and never came back. Gotten the lads nervous."

    Linux emerged from the stable's shadows wearing a legionnaire's dress uniform. His breastplate, helmet, buckles, and scabbard gleamed from Julian's thorough work. As expected, a young officer awaited him. If the subaltern found anything odd in a senior officer emerging from the fortress stables, he did not let it be known. "Commandant's compliments, sir. He wishes to have a word."
    Linux motioned with the scroll he held in his left hand. Even in the lane's perpetual gloom, the imperial eagle glowed with unmistakable intensity. "Lead on."
    Antonia Fortress was a functional and charmless place. When the Romans took it over as their garrison headquarters, they buried the courtyard gardens beneath heavy stone tiles. Where flowers once bloomed, soldiers now paraded and trained and gambled. The halls were bare of adornment, the sounds brutal and masculine. Linux followed the young officer up the broad central stairs, nodded in response to the guard's salute, and entered the commandant's quarters.
    "So you're back."
    He snapped off a parade-ground salute, then bowed low. "Linux Aurelius at your service, Tribune."
    Legate Bruno Aetius was just as Linux had recalled, a bull in leather and gold. "When exactly did you arrive?"
    "My ship docked a few days ago in Caesarea, Tribune."
    "You had some trouble on the way to Jerusalem?"
    "Not much, thanks to your men. They handled themselves well."
    "They'd better, or I'll show them just how rough I can be on soldiers who don't." Bruno settled into the leather-backed chair behind a massive table. "I suppose you've heard of the new pestilence sweeping the Judean plains."
    "I understand they call themselves Zealots."
    The tribune nodded as his aide placed a mug of something hot by his left hand. "Will you take tea, Linux?"
    "Thank you, sir, but no. I just ate."
    "These Zealots are determined that Judea will once again be ruled by Judeans, united under a name from the distant past. `Israel,' they call it. Legends are springing up about them. Songs are being sung in the local taverns."
    Linux recalled the hum of death flying out of a desert night. "And you have yet to capture any."
    "The Zealots are neither strong enough nor stupid enough to attack my troops head on. They prey upon lone riders and small contingents of soldiers."
    "Not local merchants?"
    "Not many