Free The Hidden Flame by Janette Oke Page B

scroll unfurled across his desk. "Well, all I can say is, if Marcellus is anything like what I've heard of the people running our empire, Damascus will not be far enough away from Rome for me."

    The Temple trumpet sounded just as Linux left the fortress. He had rarely given the Judean rituals any thought when he had been posted there in the past. The city was full of the Judeans' religious fervor. Every Roman officer was certain this intensity was behind much of the antagonism shown toward their Roman masters. Linux returned the salute of the officer awaiting his appearance. "You have the legate's staff?"
    "Yes, here, sire."
    The imperial eagle at the top of the gilded staff glowed with the same power as the bird on the end of Linux's second scroll. "It's a nice day for a stroll, don't you agree?"
    The soldiers all grinned. Linux's sardonic air was well remembered among the Jerusalem garrison.
    Linux took the reins from the soldier tending his horse and slipped into the saddle. "Let's get this over with."
    The air held a dense mixture of sunlight and heat and dust. Linux rode alongside the subaltern, the only other Roman who rode. Their way forward was made easy enough, for not even the most surly Judean was willing to obstruct the imperial eagle. The staff held by the soldier who walked ahead of them signified to all that they rode on the emperor's business. Any who stood in their way would be treated as though insulting the emperor himself. Such processions only took place under very special circumstances, as when a governor was traveling under official business, or when the emperor sent a royal decree to a local ruler. Such as now.
    Linux held to the mask of Roman authority that every officer in Jerusalem was forced to adopt. The lead guard shouted for the people to make way, while a pair of soldiers walked on either side, armed with long staffs to prod away any man or beast. The avenues were crowded, as always. Many of the looks cast their way held dark fury. But no one threatened their progress.
    At the first major turning, the lead guard glanced back. Linux motioned them to the right, away from the Temple. The subaltern frowned, clearly wanting to make as public a display of Roman power as possible. But Linux had no desire to confront the mobs clustering around the Temple entrance. From the glances the foot soldiers shared, they clearly agreed with him. Their way took them north toward the Pool of Siloam, then along the main thoroughfare bisecting the upper city. This route was further but much less crowded. They made good time.
    Linux found himself thinking about the Judean lass, Abigail. The horses' hooves offered a gentle cadence to his reflections.
    He felt as though his spirit were being torn in two. One side of his reflections, the Roman side, shouted like a commander facing enemy battalions. Marry a Judean? His brother, Castor, would be utterly delighted by the news. Linux knew Castor had always feared his seizing power. Many Umbrians made no attempt to hide their preference of Linux as their ruler. Marrying a Judean would hand his brother a sharpened sword, one Castor would not hesitate to use against him.
    But the other side of him, the lonely wanderer, hungered for a woman he scarcely knew at all.

    The Jerusalem palace stood upon one of the city's highest points, overlooking the western valleys and the Jaffa Gate. Herod's father had chosen the location both to be as far as possible from the Temple Mount and to proclaim his rule as an opposing force against the high priests. The palace was so large that seven years earlier it had been split in two, with Pontius Pilate residing in one side and Herod Antipas in the other.
    Linux presented himself and was granted entry. His men dismissed the palace guards with a single glance. Herod's guards bore the weak faces of men born to loiter and were dressed in finery that looked absurd to the Roman foot soldiers. The palace interior, however, was another matter. The