by Debra Diaz
A hand clasped roughly about her arm and a voice shouted into her ear, “The legate would want you below, young woman. Come with me…” and she was thrust back inside the little cabin. The ship began to pitch back and forth.
She was frightened. She got down on her knees and held onto the cot, which some farsighted craftsman had bolted to the floor. Her bag of clothes and the pouch of coins rolled about the tiny room, but there was no sound except for the howl of the wind and the roar of the sea.
Much later, Alysia woke with her head on the bed, conscious of a strange stillness. She stumbled to the door, feeling as off-balance as if the ship still tossed wildly about. She opened the door. The sky was a queer yellowish color. She could hear two men talking quietly.
“We’ll make port at Crete for repairs. I don’t think the storm blew us very far off course.”
“See that the repairs are done quickly.”
“Captain, the weather—”
“You heard me…” The voices moved and faded away.
The unscheduled stop at Crete was brief indeed, lasting just long enough to seal a few cracks and mend the mainsail. Believing the worst of the storm to be over, the captain ordered the crew to cast off again. The pale young woman who walked purposefully down the steps to the pier and disappeared, went unnoticed.
The ship bound for Cyprus never reached its destination, for the storm erupted with more fury than ever and battered the vessel until it broke apart, drowning everyone on board.
* * * *
Alysia watched with rising fascination as the distant shoreline came nearer and nearer. Some miles back it had seemed a long, even curve, but now she could see the jagged indentations and stretches of smooth, sandy beach. The buildings of the city seemed to rise magically out of the sea. It was a beautiful sight, the land sloping upward to a great height, covered by long rows of terraced gardens and houses, and beyond them stretched a long blue line of hills and mountains.
“Have a care there, young woman,” said the kindly old captain, as she leaned over the rail. “There’s man-eating fish in these waters.”
She smiled and moved back. “Yes, I’ve seen their fins.” The two nights she had spent at Crete had rested and revived her. She could hardly believe she’d considered jumping into the sea and killing herself! She was alive and young; she had a healthy body and a full purse, and she could go anywhere she wanted.
But she quickly discovered she couldn’t go anywhere, for of the three passenger ships docked at Crete, one was bound for Rome and one for Athens. She couldn’t return to Athens any more than she could return to Rome. Besides, Paulus might seek her there. The third ship was sailing for Alexandria. But there would be many Romans and Greeks in Alexandria, a city noted for its scholars and multitudes of travelers.
At last she found a merchant ship whose captain allowed people needing passage to purchase a spot on deck, as long as they had their own provisions. The ship was bound for Palestine. She knew little about that country, or its people, except that they had a strict religious and moral code…which seemed appealing and offered some sense of security. And surely there wouldn’t be many Romans in so obscure a country. After shopping for a blanket and cushions, as well as some dried meat and fruit, she bought passage and boarded the ship.
The harbor at Joppa was really no harbor; the ships had to weigh anchor some distance from land while smaller boats came out to pick up passengers and commodities. Several miles up the coast, Caesarea was the main port city with, it was said, the finest harbor in all the empire.
Alysia gathered up her belongings from her station on deck and carefully climbed down the ladder to the waiting boat rowed by slaves. At last they reached the landing and she climbed another ladder to begin her walk down a creaking pier full of rotting boards. In spite of her new optimism, she had to admit to herself that she was frightened and uncertain. But what else could she do but set her chin and propel herself forward, and see what the day would hold?
In spite of its lack of actual docks and berths for ships, Joppa was a busy port city; its highway was the main connection for merchants and pilgrims to the larger city of Jerusalem. As she made her way down the platform she was jostled and practically forced along by the sheer number of people hurrying to and fro.
Alysia looked back for a moment at the turquoise waters sparkling under the midday sun. Several ships drifted at anchor, their sails and masts starkly outlined against the azure sky. Maybe it was the last time she’d have this view of the sea…the Great Sea that led to Rome, and to a man she couldn’t seem to put out of her mind.
Don’t look back, she told herself. Never look back.
Again she lifted her chin and tried to decide which of the narrow, winding streets to enter. She saw rows of flat-topped adobe houses; another way led to a section where carpenters and stone masons were at work, either building or refurbishing. Joppa wasn’t nearly as attractive on land as it was by sea.
Laden camels and ox-carts were moving slowly toward another road, and she reasoned that this must be the main highway. She fell in with the throngs of people going in that direction. They were for the most part plainly dressed, many of them barefoot. She couldn’t help but feel a bit superior to these people, scurrying about in this unsavory city. They didn’t show much intelligence, squawking back and forth at each other in their heathen tongue. How was she going to make them understand her? She thought the whole world spoke Greek. What could she do to earn a living here?
She would just have to find a comfortable inn (if one could be found) and spend more time planning a course of action. She needed to learn something of the towns and cities of this country; she must be able to make a rational decision about where she was to live.
Suddenly the marketplace opened before her, filled with people, camels, donkeys and mules. Large bazaars shaded by awnings lined the edges of the street, and the merchants either sat with their goods surrounding them, or stood behind long tables bearing samples of cloth or pottery or things made of wood. The odors of food and of the mementoes left by the beasts of burden filled her nostrils, and loud voices, creaking wagons, and assorted clankings and rattlings created a din of confusion.
She made her way cautiously through the crowd, not noticing a small boy who followed her closely. She caught a glimpse of him when she dropped her bag and bent at once to pick it up, but thought nothing of the fact that he seemed to be watching her. She walked on, and some time later heard a man’s voice speaking in Greek; when she turned, surprised, she saw the boy again. The instant their eyes met the boy lunged forward, jerked the linen bag out of her hand and darted away, disappearing into the mass of people and animals.
“Stop!” she cried, beginning to run after him. At once the tall, muscular man who had spoken in Greek caught her arm and said, “Wait, I will catch him.”
Alysia hesitated. The man pushed his way into the crowd. She would never have been able to do that, and she’d already lost sight of the boy. The man’s companion waited beside her with a reassuring nod. People jostled past them and they moved to stand beneath an awning stretched over a stall, from which issued chopping sounds and a disagreeable smell of fish. Alysia waited in an agony of confusion and suspense. Were these men part of the thievery or were they really trying to help her? And why should they try to help her, a stranger?
“You’re traveling alone?” the man asked, exhibiting a kindly interest.
“Y—yes,” she answered slowly, but she could see no threat in the dark eyes. He was a thin man, dressed in a plain robe and sandals, with black hair and a long, thin nose. She supposed him to be between thirty and forty years of age.
“This is my sister,” the man said, as if to put her at ease, and for the first time Alysia noticed a young girl standing behind him. Her petite frame was clad in an ankle-length gown belted at the waist, and a long cloth headdress covering most of her dark hair. She had delicate features, with large dark eyes that bore a look of concern. At that moment the other, youn
ger man returned, sweating and breathing hard. He was holding her bag.
“I found this, but the boy was too quick for me. The clothes were scattered. I replaced them, but perhaps he took something—did you have money?”
Alysia searched frantically for the purse she’d stuffed down into the bottom of the bag. Clothes, blanket, a little food …the purse was gone.
She couldn’t believe it! She was penniless, poorer even that that wretched beggar across the street with his cup full of coins. She had not even a cup to beg with! She was so angry and humiliated that for a moment she couldn’t speak. The others observed her expression and looked at each other uncertainly.
Finally Alysia cleared her throat and murmured, “I am grateful for your help. I—I have nothing but these clothes. Perhaps I can sell them here in the market.”
The two men looked at each other, almost as if they could communicate without speaking. Finally the one who had chased the young thief said, “My name is Nathan, and these are my cousins, Lazarus and Mary. We live in Bethany of Judea, a town some distance from here. May I ask your name, and if you are alone?”
“My name is Alysia. And yes, I am alone.”
“Do you have friends or relatives nearby?”
“No. Not nearby. I’m traveling—I’ve only just arrived.”
Nathan had a pleasant face, with curly, copper-colored hair and eyes almost the same shade. He gave her a long, appraising look that wasn’t like the crude and lustful stares to which she had become accustomed. He said, “I think it would be folly to leave you without any means. You wouldn’t get much for the clothes, knowing the merchants here.”
Lazarus added, “Perhaps you would accompany us to Bethany. Mary and my other sister live with me. You could stay with us, if you like, until you decide what to do.”
This unexpected kindness brought more tears to her eyes. She brushed them away and glanced at both men. They had honest, open faces. She felt a hand on her arm; the young girl was looking at her and nodding, as though she understood what was being said.
Perhaps it was fate that these people had come along just now. And perhaps she should get away from the coast, and disappear into the country.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Thank you all. I will come with you.”
Nathan said, “We were almost ready to go. Our wagon is this way.”
They walked across the street and into an area where wagons were being loaded with various items. They approached one of them, where a husky youth was tucking a blanket securely about the sides. Nathan spoke to the youth, gave him some coins, and watched until he had gone out of sight.
Nathan drove; the others would walk. The two donkeys pulling the wagon plodded slowly forward. The hard road had been beaten smooth by the hooves of animals and the wheels of all manner of conveyances. The outer edge of the town was surrounded by orange orchards and wheat fields, and as they left the plain they began a gentle descent through a long valley with rolling hills on either side. Heavily laden camels and ox-carts travailed before and behind them.
Soon the road began ascending, with the surrounding hills becoming steeper. The pass was dark and seemed threatening, somehow, and Alysia felt relieved when they emerged onto a higher and wider portion of road, and the mountains seemed not to press so closely about them. Trees dotted the landscape, cedars, firs, pines and oak. Thick, thorny bushes sprouted from everywhere.
Unexpectedly they encountered a Roman watchtower, constructed of huge bricks, which reared atop a plateau high above the road. The lone sentry glanced down at them as they passed. Alysia almost held her breath until she saw him turn and face the opposite direction, taking little interest in such a small entourage that included two women. The men remained silent as they passed the watchtower. She received the peculiar impression that they were as uneasy as she.
Some miles further the men guided the donkeys to the side of the road and stopped beneath the widespread shade of an enormous fig tree. Mary began unpacking a satchel that she pulled from beneath the seat of the wagon, removing from it a long loaf of bread, a covered dish full of olives and a bottle of water. The few times that she spoke it was in a different language; it seemed she knew very little Greek. As Alysia helped her pour the water into cups, the men fed the donkeys a mixture of oats and chopped hay. They took out jugs of water and emptied them into a bucket for the animals to drink.
When the meal was ready they all sat beneath the tree. Before anyone took a bite, Lazarus recited something like a prayer and they began eating. Alysia tried to watch and behave as they did.
“Where did you say you live?” she asked Nathan.
Nathan looked up. “Bethany. It’s about two miles east of our Holy City, Jerusalem. About forty miles from Joppa. There’s an inn further on where we’ll stay the night. And, if you don’t mind my asking, how is it that you are traveling with no companion?”
Alysia busily wiped crumbs from her lap. “There was a—a death in the family. I had to leave rather quickly.”
“Where are you from? Do you have any family here?”
Alysia had been thinking along the journey about what she would tell them when the questions inevitably came. They seemed to believe she was a Greek-speaking Jew—there were many of them in Athens and, indeed, everywhere. Why they should make such an assumption she didn’t know; yet, why else would she have come here, to Palestine?
“My parents have been long dead,” she began, hating to lie to them but not knowing what else to do. She would tell the story once and hope never to have to repeat it. “I lived with my aunt and uncle in Cyprus. My uncle died last year, and my aunt a few weeks ago. They were from Jerusalem.” (That was the only Jewish city she’d ever heard of.) “I’ve never been there, and as far as I know I have no other relatives. But, I didn’t wish to stay in Cyprus, and so I thought I would come here. I did have some money, but—I was hoping to find work.”
“You never came to Jerusalem, even during the festivals?” Lazarus asked.
“My uncle was an invalid. We were not able to travel.”
Alysia kept her gaze on her food, not knowing if they watched her. She tried to think of something to say to divert the attention from herself.
“And you, you are from Bethany and yet you speak perfect Greek.”
“Growing up in Cyprus you would not be familiar with our ways. We’re taught Greek and Latin in school, in addition to Hebrew and Aramaic.” Nathan and the others began packing what was left of the food into the satchel. “In a land so occupied by foreign invaders, it is necessary to know more than one language.”
There was an almost passionate bitterness in his voice and Alysia looked at him in surprise, having taken him for a quiet, mild-mannered man. She noticed how strong his hands looked and how his square jaw was set in lines that could only be called purposeful.
He turned abruptly. “Forgive me, I did not mean to bring up unpleasant things.”
She tried to smile, but felt compelled to ask, “Are there many Romans here?”
“Not in the smaller towns,” he answered. “But in Jerusalem, yes. There’s a Roman fort there. You may know that Caesarea is their headquarters. There are soldiers as well as Roman merchants and their families in many of the larger cities.”
“I see.”
He watched her expectantly and she added, “It’s only that, I was hoping not to see many reminders of Rome. The Romans have not been kind to my family.”
Nathan did not reply, but Lazarus smiled a little and said, “If you have come here to avoid Romans, Alysia, you have come to the wrong place.”
CHAPTER VII
Before night fell they came to a town called Emmaus, and stopped at an inn for the night. It was small, lacking in many comforts; it consisted only of the innkeeper’s living quarters and an open courtyard surrounded by a low wall, where travelers could put down their pallets. Fortunately Alysia still had her blanket and cushion, and she and Mary lay on one side of the courtyard, with Nathan and Lazarus on the o
ther. She lay awake for a long while, thinking about what Lazarus had said. There were many Romans here…well, they were everywhere! That didn’t mean she’d come to the wrong place, did it? She would just have to be careful. No one here could possibly know what she had done.
For some reason she felt at ease with these people; she trusted them. It seemed right to travel far inland and dwell in a small village. Perhaps she could find work there. At last she drifted into a peaceful sleep…
They rose early in the morning and were on their way again. The inclines became steeper, the sun hotter, and the men quieter. The cart creaked and rattled. The grass had turned brown in the summer’s heat but the rolling landscape was still beautiful against the blue-ridged backdrop of mountains, which drew nearer and nearer.
“Will we go through the city of Jerusalem?” Alysia asked, wondering if she should be concerned about the presence of soldiers there. Surely there was no one in this entire country who would recognize her!
“We will pass around it on the north side,” Nathan answered. “You’ve seen what our roads and highways are like…only the military roads are paved. Some are wide and smooth like this one, others are little more than paths. We will take the easiest route. It will probably be dark by the time we reach Jerusalem.”
She would have asked more questions but she was tired and hot. They stopped several times to drink and water the donkeys. She had never in her life fallen asleep while sitting up, but she must have done so for she had climbed into the wagon before they approached the Holy City, and the next thing she knew it was dark with a great moon and they were climbing up a rock strewn road toward a cluster of houses perched on the edge of a mountain. The road was lined with trees as they passed within the gate of the village, and the small houses glowed with lamplight from within.