remembers the favours she does for others.'
It was Malloy's turn not to laugh. 'Jane has always done right by me.'
'That's because you always made her look good. Cross her and see how she treats you.'
Gwen slipped into Malloy's office and kissed the back of his neck as he was finishing up with Gil. 'A good morning?' he asked when he was off the phone.
'I think I decided what I want to paint. If I can get the light right, it could be nice.'
'The one I saw you working on at the end?'
She nodded, smiling. 'I didn't think you would like it. The others were more realistic.'
'The others caught the image. The last got hold of his soul.'
Gwen smiled at his observation, but didn't respond. She pretended to value his opinion about art, but they both knew he was a Philistine. 'How was your morning?'
'I talked to some people about a job.'
Malloy had led Gwen to believe he had worked with the State Department in Zürich, specializing in finance. Boring work for the most part, he had told her. Nodding toward the black nylon satchel he had set beside his desk, she remarked, 'You did more than talk.'
'A little travelling money.'
Gwen seemed surprised, but not particularly upset. 'Travelling where?'
'I need to take care of some business in Zürich. A couple of days there and then fly back,'
Gwen blinked in surprise. 'This is sudden.'
'A lot of money and not much work. I couldn't really turn it down.'
'What kind of work?'
'Same-old-same-old. Talk to the bankers. Try to figure out what they're not telling me.'
'Maybe I could come along. You know ... see my man in action?'
'It would put you to sleep. How about another time, when we can do some sight-seeing?'
'Have you got a lot to do between now and when you take off?'
'Not a lot. Why?'
She tucked her hands between his legs. 'I was hoping to get some practice in this weekend.'
'Practice?'
'You know. For the honeymoon.'
CHAPTER THREE
Caesarea Maritima
Spring AD 26.
Caesarea Maritima would have been impossible to anticipate, Pilate decided as his fleet sailed into the city's magnificent harbour for the first time. It was Roman in every detail, but nothing like Rome: Rome had grown over centuries; Caesarea had been built seventy years ago from a plan. At its centre Rome's streets were wide and straight. There were large plazas, harmonious entryways, and colossal statues at every turn. Beyond the centre the streets followed old footpaths. They were crooked, narrow and muddy. Whole blocks were filled up with tenement buildings, one street after the next, until even the sunlight could not penetrate through to the ground more than an hour or two a day. This left the pervasive stink of decay and mould. In Caesarea everything was clean and freshly scrubbed. Every road in the entire city was straight and broad enough to allow two chariots to pass - the Roman ideal. It was a city built on principles - not caprice and certainly not history. Nothing of importance had ever happened in Caesarea.
From the mouth of the harbour the temple of the divine Caesar Augustus dominated the cityscape - honouring the city's namesake and making friend and foe alike conscious of its Western character, despite its location in the heart of the Orient, some sixty miles north of Jerusalem. There was an amphitheatre - which even Rome did not have. It was used expressly for gladiator events and this enabled the circus at the edge of Caesarea, unlike the Circus Maximus in Rome, to be used exclusively for races. A theatre was under construction and by all accounts it would be the crown jewel of a city devoted to classical ideals.
Pilate watched with interest as his flagship came in closer. The harbour had no natural features but had been created by two enormous walls reaching out to embrace part of the sea. Not only did they protect hundreds of ships, they also enabled a number of vessels to be loaded or unloaded simultaneously.
Sending his personal bodyguard forward to secure the dock before he
It was Malloy's turn not to laugh. 'Jane has always done right by me.'
'That's because you always made her look good. Cross her and see how she treats you.'
Gwen slipped into Malloy's office and kissed the back of his neck as he was finishing up with Gil. 'A good morning?' he asked when he was off the phone.
'I think I decided what I want to paint. If I can get the light right, it could be nice.'
'The one I saw you working on at the end?'
She nodded, smiling. 'I didn't think you would like it. The others were more realistic.'
'The others caught the image. The last got hold of his soul.'
Gwen smiled at his observation, but didn't respond. She pretended to value his opinion about art, but they both knew he was a Philistine. 'How was your morning?'
'I talked to some people about a job.'
Malloy had led Gwen to believe he had worked with the State Department in Zürich, specializing in finance. Boring work for the most part, he had told her. Nodding toward the black nylon satchel he had set beside his desk, she remarked, 'You did more than talk.'
'A little travelling money.'
Gwen seemed surprised, but not particularly upset. 'Travelling where?'
'I need to take care of some business in Zürich. A couple of days there and then fly back,'
Gwen blinked in surprise. 'This is sudden.'
'A lot of money and not much work. I couldn't really turn it down.'
'What kind of work?'
'Same-old-same-old. Talk to the bankers. Try to figure out what they're not telling me.'
'Maybe I could come along. You know ... see my man in action?'
'It would put you to sleep. How about another time, when we can do some sight-seeing?'
'Have you got a lot to do between now and when you take off?'
'Not a lot. Why?'
She tucked her hands between his legs. 'I was hoping to get some practice in this weekend.'
'Practice?'
'You know. For the honeymoon.'
CHAPTER THREE
Caesarea Maritima
Spring AD 26.
Caesarea Maritima would have been impossible to anticipate, Pilate decided as his fleet sailed into the city's magnificent harbour for the first time. It was Roman in every detail, but nothing like Rome: Rome had grown over centuries; Caesarea had been built seventy years ago from a plan. At its centre Rome's streets were wide and straight. There were large plazas, harmonious entryways, and colossal statues at every turn. Beyond the centre the streets followed old footpaths. They were crooked, narrow and muddy. Whole blocks were filled up with tenement buildings, one street after the next, until even the sunlight could not penetrate through to the ground more than an hour or two a day. This left the pervasive stink of decay and mould. In Caesarea everything was clean and freshly scrubbed. Every road in the entire city was straight and broad enough to allow two chariots to pass - the Roman ideal. It was a city built on principles - not caprice and certainly not history. Nothing of importance had ever happened in Caesarea.
From the mouth of the harbour the temple of the divine Caesar Augustus dominated the cityscape - honouring the city's namesake and making friend and foe alike conscious of its Western character, despite its location in the heart of the Orient, some sixty miles north of Jerusalem. There was an amphitheatre - which even Rome did not have. It was used expressly for gladiator events and this enabled the circus at the edge of Caesarea, unlike the Circus Maximus in Rome, to be used exclusively for races. A theatre was under construction and by all accounts it would be the crown jewel of a city devoted to classical ideals.
Pilate watched with interest as his flagship came in closer. The harbour had no natural features but had been created by two enormous walls reaching out to embrace part of the sea. Not only did they protect hundreds of ships, they also enabled a number of vessels to be loaded or unloaded simultaneously.
Sending his personal bodyguard forward to secure the dock before he
Similar Books
