Bethany sits on a hill across the Kidron Valley and beyond, about two miles from Jerusalem. Gamaliel had made the journey on occasion, but, as a “man of the city,” not often and then only during the week. Except during the Passover and High Holy days, when pilgrims cover the hills in and around Jerusalem, Bethany was beyond the permissible Sabbath day’s journey and considered another camp. On those special days, the borders of the Jerusalem encampment—an archaic term gleaned from Exodus—would be extended and the two entities would theoretically overlap. But this was neither a feast nor holy day and the exception did not apply. Gamaliel, of all people knew that. As Shabbat did not begin for another six hours, he felt it safe to make the trip. If, however, he could not complete his investigation by nightfall, he would be stuck in Bethany for a day, and he knew enough about Bethany to not want that.
“We must hurry, Loukas,” he said again.
Loukas waved at the messenger to lead the way and they departed, but only after Loukas had given instructions to his servant regarding the removal of Draco’s body.
“Bring that mixture with you, Loukas.”
“The pain relief? What for?”
“I am not sure but I think it is important that you have it with you at all times.”
“I see. After two miles, most of it uphill, you expect to be in great pain, my friend?”
“That is a distinct possibility.”
***
A need to blend into one’s surroundings is paramount if keeping watch on a house or a person is the task set for you. Two such people watched the three men leave the physician’s house. One of them followed the trio down the hill into the Kidron Valley and thence up the Mount of Olives and on to Bethany. The other lingered and considered his options.
The physician’s servant had closed the door. How many others were lurking about? Would this man allow him to enter? What kind of information would he find if he were to enter the house? Unless there was more than the one servant he knew about, he should have no difficulties. He could always dispose of him should he suddenly find an allegiance to his employer greater than his willingness to cooperate, but that would have to be a last resort. Killing always provoked questions. Better leave the scene as you found it. He was about to step out from the shadows and knock on the physician’s door when a group of men bearing a stretcher marched down the street and stopped at Loukas’ door. He joined them. This would be easier than he expected.
The men had been sent to remove the body of a dead servant. The servant died? How fortunate. None of the group questioned his presence among them, assuming that he belonged to the household. The young man who opened the door to them accepted that he was with the party of men. One servant only—perfect.
While the men wrapped the body of the grossly disfigured man, he searched the room, the house and, with the servant’s acquiescence, the storage unit carved into the hillside.
The men finished their preparations. He would have to leave with them or stay and work on the young man. But what would he know? Not much and in the end, he might have to dispatch him which would only raise the stakes higher. Instead, he slipped out of the house with the funeral party and resumed his post opposite. Tomorrow was Shabbat, therefore, the healer would return before nightfall.
There was time.
Chapter XXX
The guardsman lay sprawled on his back in a cramped, cluttered alleyway behind a rundown inn. Crates and several broken amphorae partially blocked the entrance and prevented a crowd from entering and disturbing the site. The location also provided the reason it had taken so long for the body to be discovered. A serving girl sent out to get rid of some rubbish had chosen the alley as the spot to drop her armful of trash, even though the innkeeper had directed her to take it to the community dump.
Gamaliel was puffing when he and Loukas arrived. They were greeted by the man introduced as the Elder, although Gamaliel had no idea what the title meant or how the old man came by it. He had succeeded, however, in keeping the morbidly curious away and the scene, except for the recent addition of a pile of fetid straw, had been reasonably well preserved.
“It is as I thought, Loukas. This poor man is Zach ben Azar’el, late of the Temple guards. What do you suppose he had in mind when he journeyed to this out of the way alley?”
“It is an odd place to choose if one has made up one’s mind to commit suicide.”
“This isn’t a suicide, my friend. This is another murder.”
“Gamaliel, I have always admired your ability to see the truth of things when others cannot, but how in the world do you know this is not a suicide? Look at the man.”
Zach ben Azar’el, his face pale and set in evident surprise, sprawled on his back, legs apart, arms flailed out and his short sword protruding at an acute angle from a point just below his sternum.
“The sword is at an angle,” Loukas lectured. “The correct angle is important. There are two efficient ways to stab a man to death. One is downward in the angle of the neck on the left side…here. He pointed to a spot where his collar bone joined his neck. To do that one must stand close to the victim or behind him. The other, more common way, is at this angle up under the center of the ribs. Straight in won’t do. Up and in and you will die instantly.”
“That is fascinating, Loukas. If I ever decide to become an assassin, I will remember that. Knowledge of anatomy must be quite useful to someone in that line of work. So, he did not fall on his sword.”
“When a man decides to kill himself in this fashion, he holds the hilt of the sword against the point where the ribs meet and angles it upward. Then, when he is ready, or his desperation overcomes his fear, he pulls it in. That will penetrate his heart and then he falls.”
“I would think he would fall forward. Otherwise one cannot say he fell on his sword.”
“You are being too literal. It is a figure of speech, Rabban. He might as easily have fallen backwards.”
“You are the expert and will not dispute the point, but I am willing to bet, were I a betting person, which I am not, that the fall is usually, nay almost always, forward—thus the expression. Anyway, this man did not kill himself.”
“And you come to that conclusion how? Certainly not because he fell the wrong way. What do you see?”
“What do I see? It is not so much a matter of what I see, as who this is. Zach served as a captain in the Temple guard. Men selected for that duty are vetted for their knowledge of the Law and their absolute devotion to it. Nothing less than total adherence is tolerated. He knew the Law. He would never have killed himself. Therefore, someone did him in and made it look like suicide.”
“There are no exceptions? Come now, what about King Saul who did precisely what this man must have done. You call that…something I can’t remember, but I am sure there is an exception.”
“The Talmud says, For him who takes his own life with full knowledge of his action, no rites will be observed—no rending of clothes, no eulogy. You are thinking of anuss which is the condition attributed to Saul, who, after his defeat at the hands of the Philistines, realized what would have happened to him if he were taken alive. He impaled himself on his sword. More importantly, he finally understood that he had disobeyed the Lord and, in the moment of his defeat, realized his sin. There was no other recourse left to him.”
“I am going to suggest something here, friend, and you can tell me why I am wrong, if I am. I don’t think so, but you have a way of turning the world on its ear. So, suppose it was Zach, the guard of the Holy of Holies, not his subordinates, who took the bribe. He goes through the motions of seeking the culprits, reports a highly inventive tale about the Palace and duplicity in high places, and then hears that you have gone to the high priest. He guesses his story is about to be disproved. He comes to this lonely place, realizes the depth of his sin against the Lord, and, like King Saul, kills himself. End of story.”
“A very plausible account. You are to be congratulated. I am impressed.”
“Then you see t
he possibilities?”
“Oh, yes, certainly. But it won’t wash. The high priest did not refute his story, he confirmed it. This man was murdered and his death made to look like a suicide.”
“And you can say categorically it is?”
“Yes. Look, to plunge a sword into one’s own chest cavity takes strength and leverage. Here take this stick.” Gamaliel handed Loukas a stick he retrieved from the ground. “Now, position it as if it were a sword and you were going to shove it into your innards. There, you see? Your shoulders are hunched forward in order to grasp what would be the hilt, and you are leaning forward. That is the natural way one would stand if he were attempting to kill himself in that fashion. When the sword goes in, he will fall forward on his sword and it is the fall that insures the wound will be lethal. As you can see, this man, who, by the way, is an orthodox, practicing Jew, is lying on his back. Someone dispatched him and then borrowed his sword to finish the business.”
“For the moment I will concede to your version but…how was he, as you say, dispatched?”
“A very good question. There are footprints here.”
“Well, there would be, the girl who found him, the old man who sent for us. Any number of people could have come in here.”
Gamaliel scanned the ground with the diligence he would an old papyrus scrap, seeking a clue, a hint to its origins or authenticity. His gaze moved to the inn wall and finally climbed to its top.
“How does one get to the roof? Innkeeper, I need to walk on your roof.”
The innkeeper bustled over and led them into the interior. “There are several ways to the roof. It is a feature of the inn. There is the main ladder over against the wall. I keep watch on that. Access to the roof is a privilege for which a guest must pay.”
“I see. And the other entries?”
“Two of my guest rooms over on that side have a separate means of climbing up. Guests pay extra for a separate room and more still for a roof way.”
“People sleep on the roof on hot nights?” The innkeeper nodded. “So, innkeeper, did anyone go up on the roof by way of your ladder?”
“No, no one.”
“You’re sure of that? Very well, who occupied the rooms with access?”
“It was a slow night. I rented one to a merchant from Gaza, one to a gentleman like yourself, and the last, the one with no access, was used by a man who, I believe came from the Galilee, but I can’t be sure.”
“Did any of these men have a visitor, or did any of them seem to know one or the other?”
“I can’t say. Many people crowd in here during the night for company and refreshment. People are leery of walking the streets at night except when the patrol comes by. Then they will walk behind them to their house or wherever. Until the patrol comes along, they stay here. It is very good for business.”
“No doubt. So, you can tell me nothing about the men with access to the roof, what they did, what they said, to whom they talked?”
“Sorry, no. It is something we are trained not to do, if you follow me.”
Gamaliel snorted in disgust and rolled his eyes. “Very well, show me your roof. Come along, Loukas. You wanted to know how our guard was dispatched. The answer is on the roof.”
Chapter XXXI
That the inn’s roof had been used the night before seemed obvious. Mats had been drawn up from below and one or two lay scattered in the center, evidence of at least one person using the space for sleeping. The tops of the inn’s walls rose up from the surface and formed ledges which circumscribed it. The roof sloped toward either side wall which was punctuated periodically with holes to allow the rain or the infrequent snow’s melting to drain away. Against the ledge that was formed by the wall facing the alley where Zach’s body was found, two cups and the scraps of some loaves evidenced that at least two people shared a meal there. Gamaliel picked up the cups and held them to his nose. He dipped his finger into each in turn and tasted the dregs.
“You said Ali’s wonderful mixture was composed of something akin to hul gil, mustard, and wine as a carrier. Do I have that right?”
Loukas straightened up from peering over the edge at the dead man, his body now covered with a cloak. “Yes. That is correct as near as I can tell.”
“It is the mustard that causes the burning sensation?”
“Yes.”
“And that would limit how much of the medicine anyone might consume at one time. Too large a dose would burn one’s mouth and the person taking it would probably spit it out?”
“Very likely unless, like poor Draco, the pain in his body superseded that in his mouth, or he was desperate for death and ignored it. But, yes, a normal person’s dose would be regulated by the mustard.”
“If the mustard were not included, would the other substance be distasteful?”
“I don’t know, but assuming you are correct in implying it is a variant of hul gil, no, it would most likely be undetectable and therefore dangerous to use as a medicine except under the strict supervision of a care giver. All this is leading up to something. Are you going to tell me what that is?”
“Yes, I will shortly, but note first the ledge in front of you and compare it to the ledge on either side. What do you see?”
“Here in front the tiles are relatively clean whereas on either side…” he spun and took in the other three wall tops. “They are variously dusty. Someone sat here.”
“Our guardsman sat there. He drank from this cup, went numb or suffered a dislocation of place and time. A shove sent him over the side. He wouldn’t have felt a thing and the fall likely broke his neck. At the very least he would have been stunned. Once on the ground, he did not rise and his murderer needed only to slip out the door, borrow his sword, and make sure he would never speak of what he knew.”
“Or his murderer thought he knew.”
“Very good, yes, or thought he knew.”
“So, he was murdered.”
“As I said. Now, we must hurry back. It will be Shabbat soon. We must get back to Jerusalem and have this man in the ground right away.”
Gamaliel clambered down the crude stairs and began barking orders. Within moments, a messenger had been sent to the Temple. Stretcher bearers assembled and the body was sent on its way to Loukas’ cave/storeroom, and the two friends were speeding as fast as Gamaliel’s by now weary legs could carry him toward the city.
Loukas slowed to keep pace with Gamaliel, “You asked the question earlier. What was Zach doing way out here?”
“He had been ordered to end his investigations, remember? And he told us he intended to continue them anyway. It seems certain someone offered to help him.”
“Who?”
“It is just a guess, mind you, but I think it was either you or me.”
“What? I never.”
“No, of course not, but suppose someone dressed as a rabbi or who posed as your or my friend, met Zach with the offer to help. Wouldn’t he go almost anywhere?”
“Ah. And our stalker can do that?”
“Why not?”
They were within the boundary set for the Jerusalem Shabbat journey just as the third star twinkled in the sky. They slowed their pace.
“Where to, Rabban? I mean, the body will be temporarily interred and, with you allowing the Law to be stretched a bit, safe enough for now.”
“If you will humor me, I would like to see to the body and then I hope you will accompany me to my house where we can consider this new development. Also, I want you to test the dregs in this cup and then we will discuss whether another visit to the Street of the Herbalists is in order.”
“It will be late when I return home.”
“Probably. You should not be out and about on Shabbat night. You may spend the night with me and in the morning return home.”
“I do not want to put you out.”
“It will be my pleasure to have company. Since my wife died and my children grew up, it is lonely in my house. I will welcome the change.”
***
The man standing in the shadows had counted on Shabbat to insure Loukas’ return. He also assumed, incorrectly, that the rabban would go directly to his own home. He watched as the men carrying a dead body climbed the hill and entered Loukas’ courtyard. So, they would stow it in the hillside for the time being. Next, Loukas and the rabban arrived. The Jew seemed out of breath. That fact brought a smile to the lurker’s face. Not much of a smile—a smirk, in point of fact. Now it would be just a matter of time. The rabban would leave, then the bearers would leave, and Loukas would be alone except for the servant. He would wait.
As he expected, the bearers, their task done, retreated into the city to seek lodgings. They could not return to their homes. That is, those who lived in Bethany could not return until this time tomorrow evening. He watched as they scattered. When they had cleared the street, the man assumed the rabbi and the physician would be essentially alone. There was the possibility of the servant, but that should pose no difficulty. He started to cross the street to the courtyard wall. He would vault that, if the gate was locked, and deal with one or both as needed. He had taken only a half step when the house door opened yet again. Loukas and the rabban stepped out and turned and headed up the slope toward the Sheep Gate. What now? He guessed that if he had to accost the physician and his meddling friend in the street, so be it. He needed to have done with this. He loosened the knife from its sheath and took another step. The best plan, he thought, would be to make his move before his prey entered the city. Run up, a quick stab in the neck on one and slash on the throat of the other. Shabbat or not, the streets in the city would be crowded. Best to do it here. He picked up his pace to overtake them.
Within two or three cubits of the rabban’s broad back, Gamaliel raised his arm in greeting. A column of Temple guards wheeled around the corner and immediately surrounded the assassin’s targets. He turned away, waiting to see how this would play out. He had no compunctions about confronting a physician and an old rabbi, but a half dozen armed guards was another matter. The two groups fell into animated conversation as together they made their way to the Sheep Gate and the city.
Holy Smoke: A Jerusalem Mystery Page 14