But Ari had, with the help of Levi the bronze worker. He felt no compunction at introducing this new technology to the world. Nothing he could do would change the stream of history. He was a part of history now, and anything he did now was something that had already happened long ago and had made the past what it was. The universe was just as consistent with or without a timelike self-intersecting loop. It chose still a single trajectory through phase space.
Ari turned to Levi the bronze worker. “You will install the first gear, please.”
Levi took off the secondary axle, which ran parallel to the water screw. He slid gears onto each end of the axle and locked them into place using iron pins. The device now looked like a barbell. Several men lifted it into place beneath the water screw on bronze sleeve bearings.
Levi grabbed the teeth of the lower gear and gave it a spin. The axle rotated smoothly on its bearings. Levi climbed up to the upper water tank. Brother Eleazar handed him another gear. Levi fitted it onto the primary axis of the water screw and slid it down so that its teeth meshed with the upper gear on the secondary axis. He made some small adjustments, then nodded.
Ari grabbed the lower gear and rotated it. Now both the secondary and primary axles turned. A shout went up from all the men. The device transmitted power from the secondary to the primary!
Ari said nothing. These two axles were parallel. Of course the gears would mesh correctly and drive the system. The difficult part lay ahead.
Levi climbed down and fitted one of the remaining gears onto a horizontal axle. Several men helped him fit this to a vertical treadwheel. The wheel was about twice the height of a man—large enough for even Ari to walk inside it like a hamster, turning it to drive the system. The men worked for the fourth part of an hour to align the teeth of the treadwheel gear with the teeth of the lower gear on the secondary axis. This was a delicate task. The two gears must mesh precisely to transmit energy through the proper angle.
When they finished, Levi and his men installed the last gear on an identical treadwheel on the opposite side of the pump. Two men would power the system.
An enormous crowd of priests had gathered around. Hanan ben Hanan stood to one side, his face twitching with anticipation.
Ari pointed to Brother Eleazar. “You and I will test the device.” He stepped into the first treadwheel.
Brother Eleazar stepped into the second.
Ari’s heart pumped madly. This must not fail.
“Walk!” he called to Brother Eleazar.
Both men stepped forward, and the great wheels began to move, creaking ponderously. Step. Step. Step. The gears groaned.
Ari saw ripples in the lower tank as the pump began drawing water upward.
Ari’s treadwheel turned, turned, turned. A quarter turn. Half turn. Three—
The wheel slammed to a halt, throwing Ari forward onto the floor of the treadwheel.
A collective hiss ran around the circle of priests.
His face burning, Ari stood up and stepped off the wheel.
Levi the bronze worker appeared next to him. “Ari the Kazan, what is wrong?”
Ari pointed to the gear train. “The gears are binding.”
“That is impossible. I made them perfectly.” Levi wore a defensive look.
“Of course.” Ari smiled at Levi. “Yet still the gears are too tight. The device will not turn. We must make an adjustment.”
Levi’s eyebrows bunched up. “What sort of adjustment?”
Ari pointed to the teeth of the gears. “We must pull the gears apart and file down the teeth where they are binding.”
Levi shook his head. “A bronze file will not file bronze gears.”
Ari shrugged. “I told you to bring an iron file.”
Low murmurs ran around the circle.
A strange look of panic crossed Levi’s face.
Ari felt cold sweat on his back. “This is a small request, yes? Did you not bring a file?”
Brother Eleazar appeared at Ari’s elbow. “We must discuss this privately, Ari the Kazan.” His face looked tight, controlled.
Ari looked at the big man. “Is something wrong?”
“We will discuss this privately.”
Ari’s stomach knotted. What was so hard about this? “We need only to file the teeth a bit here and there. It is a small adjustment, to make the gears mesh.”
Hanan ben Hanan stepped forward. He had said nothing until now, but his face told Ari the entire story.
Hanan was smiling.
Rivka
* * *
As evening fell, Rivka stumbled toward home, her heart raw with grief. She and Midwife Marta had tried everything they knew, but Miryam’s baby had been born dead. Cold shadows darkened the street. Rivka yanked her cloak tighter around her shoulders and tramped along on wooden feet. This was February in the western calendar, and her toes had felt frozen for months.
If it hadn’t been so late, Rivka would have stopped by to see Hana, who was due in a couple of weeks. But today, no. Rivka had to talk to Ari. Was terrified to talk to Ari. What was he going to say when he found out she was pregnant?
Two streets farther on, she turned left. The narrow street followed the natural curve of the hill. Rivka found the door unlocked. Ari must be home. She stepped into their main downstairs room, which functioned as living room and study. A dark cold interior greeted her. “Ari?” Her voice quavered.
No answer.
She closed the door and peered into the next room, the kitchen. Nobody. No fire. She climbed the stone stairway to the second floor and pushed open the door into their bedroom. Ari sat on a squat wooden stool, elbows on knees, hands over his face. A little light filtered through the vertical windowslits above his head.
“Ari?” Rivka rushed to him, needing a hug. “Ari?”
He looked toward her, his eyes vacant, hollow.
She put her arms around him. “Ari, what’s wrong?”
A long silence, then a deep sigh. “He hates us, Rivka. For no reason.”
“Hanan ben Hanan?”
Ari sighed. “I can understand, perhaps, why he hates me. He fears me, fears my technology. But you—this I do not understand.”
Rivka’s heart lurched. “Hanan knows ... about me?”
“Gamaliel warned me today. Hanan has hired men to follow you.”
“I saw a man loitering in the street today. What does Hanan want?”
“I do not know.” Ari wrapped his strong arms around her. “Perhaps he wishes to destroy us.”
Rivka felt tears bubbling up from some deep well in her soul. She put her face in Ari’s chest and cried. Told him about her horrible day. How she’d seen that man in the street. How she’d scared him off. Then spent the day doing her utmost to help birth a dead baby. She wept until she was good and cried out. Exhausted. She wanted to tell him about her pregnancy, but ... she just couldn’t. Not yet.
Rivka wiped her eyes on the sleeve of his tunic. “Ari, this is too much. I can’t stand it anymore. I want to go back to the future where we belong.”
Ari stroked her hair. “The only future we have is here. Tomorrow. The next day. The far future you speak of is our past, and we have no return.”
Rivka snuffled and looked up into his face. Did she dare tell him? His tight jaw and closed expression frightened her. Something must have gone terribly wrong today. “Ari, I’m sorry. I forgot to ask how your day went.”
Pain crossed his face. “It was disaster. The gears meshed excellently in the shop. There remained only the test in place under load. I would have performed the test alone, quietly, but we needed men to carry the gears. We went to the Temple with always more friends following us, all of them confident of our success. Many dozen priests came to watch. And ben Hanan stood there smiling.”
Ari closed his eyes. A single tear formed at the corner of each of his eyes. “Rivka, the fit was too perfect. When we began turning the treadwheel, the gears began binding. They had not enough play between them. This was by desi
gn. I thought to trim them as needed. It is easier to remove metal than to add it. But Levi did not bring a file with him. I had told him to bring an iron file to trim the bronze gears. He knew this was foolish, but out of respect for my honor, he did not wish to affront me by telling me so. So he did nothing.”
Rivka put her hands on his. “I don’t understand.”
“Iron tools are not allowed on the Temple Mount.”
Rivka gasped. “You’re kidding.”
“It is an old tradition—one I knew nothing about. They say the altar was built in the time of King Shlomo without benefit of iron tools. And to this day, none are permitted.”
Which was crazy, but there was something in the books about that, wasn’t there? Rivka closed her eyes. Concentrated. The image of a page slowly formed in her mind. Tractate Middot 3:4 of the Mishnah. She read the words out loud. “‘Iron is created to shorten the days of a man, but the altar is created to lengthen the days of a man. It is not judged fitting to wave that which shortens over that which lengthens.’” She opened her eyes.
Ari nodded. “I have never heard this thing until now.”
“And you’re telling me they apply this principle to the whole Temple Mount today, a thousand years later? That’s ... incredible.” Rivka wished, just once, that all those books she had read in graduate school actually gave all the information she needed. It was frustrating, working with only one percent of the facts. People called her the seer woman—thought she knew the future. And yet she felt so painfully ignorant.
Ari gripped Rivka’s hands. “It is meshugah. Hanan was delighted. He told us no iron tools can be brought to the house of the living God. Nor could we remove the gears to take them home. They are now a permanent part of the Temple, and he will not permit that they should be removed.”
Rivka felt a cold lump in her belly. “But ... they don’t work.”
“That is his purpose.” Ari shook his head. “He could work with me if he wished, but he prefers to oppose me, to dishonor me. He will not allow me to repair the device there. Nor will he permit its removal.”
“Catch-22.”
“Hanan hates me for no reason except that he hates me.” Defeat washed across Ari’s face. “Rivka, I am alone against this man. All my friends, Gamaliel and Eleazar and Yoseph and the rest—they will aid me in private, but none of them dares to stand openly against Hanan ben Hanan, sagan of the Temple. He will be the next high priest and they fear him.”
“Ari, he won’t be the next high priest. Ishmael will be. Ishmael ben Phiabi. After him, Joseph Kabi. Then Hanan.”
Ari looked at her doubtfully. “Perhaps your books are in error. It is said everywhere that Hanan will be next. That is the purpose of the office of sagan. It is preparation for the high priesthood.”
Rivka studied Ari’s face. Her secret was burning now, scorching her insides. She had to tell him. She didn’t dare tell him.
Ari put his head in his hands. “I am dishonored today. Hanan ben Hanan has destroyed me, and he gloated in his victory, and nobody will hire me ever again. We are lost. You and I will go back to living on charity. I am one man alone against Hanan, and he hates me. He hates a monster named Kazan. And now he hates you, though he knows nothing of you, only because you are Kazan’s woman.”
Kazan’s woman. Rivka flinched as if Ari had slapped her. She wanted to shriek at him. I’m your wife, not your woman! But that made no sense. Wife ... woman—they were the same word. Ari had said nothing wrong. The language gave him no choice.
But something had happened to her ears, her mind. She no longer heard wife, she heard woman. She had been here too long, immersed in this wretched culture. Her culture. Her people. Her city. Jerusalem the Golden, city of God. Oppressor of women. And now she was pregnant. Her eyes flooded.
Ari reached out to her. “Rivkaleh, I am sorry. Because of me, Hanan hates you. I should never have crossed him. Please do not be afraid. Whatever he does, I will never let him harm you.”
Rivka shook her head. She had to tell him now, before her courage failed. “Ari, I’m not afraid for me. But ... I didn’t tell you yet.” Her voice caught. Tears burned down her cheeks. Tears of weariness. Joy. Rage. Frustration.
“Ari, I’m ... pregnant.” She held her breath, waiting for the explosion. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a horrible time to—”
“No.” He put a finger to her lips. “You will not apologize.”
Ari laughed out loud, a deep, bold, defiant laugh, then leaned over and kissed her softly. He wrapped her in his arms, crushing her gently in his love. “Blessed be HaShem, Rivkaleh. Today is of all days, most perfect.”
Hanan ben Hanan
* * *
Late that night, Hanan took a visitor in the receiving room of his palace. They sat on backless stone benches, leaning against the plastered wall. The man was named Yoni, a priest, a son of the Sadducees, a man who loved the Temple. His father had sat on the Sanhedrin thirty years ago and helped Hanan’s father send a certain false mashiach to his cross.
Yoni leaned toward Hanan. “They belong to that sect called HaDerech.”
Hanan nodded. The Way. Kazan was a follower of the man Yeshua, falsely called mashiach. This sect did not love the Temple, and some of them had called for its overthrow. They were fools, charlatans, messianics. Hanan would deal with them when his day came.
Yoni continued. “Kazan’s woman is a midwife and has a reputation as a seer woman. It is said that she reads the future as easily as a man reads a scroll.”
Hanan tugged at the corner of his beard. The woman was a fraud, of course. All seers were liars. He stood up and put a hand on Yoni’s shoulder. “My friend, I thank you. This is useful information, but perhaps no longer needed. I have destroyed Kazan today. Nobody will hire him anymore, forever.”
Yoni stood also. “If you require more information, I am here—send me.”
Hanan nodded and saw Yoni to the door. He stood in his courtyard staring up at the cold black sky, filled with the shining heavenly hosts which fools and magicians like Kazan worshiped—an abomination to the living God.
Sooner or later, Kazan would return to Egypt or Babylon or whichever far country he came from, and another threat to the Temple would be removed.
Chapter Ten
Ari
* * *
POUNDING AT THE DOOR DOWNSTAIRS woke Ari the next morning. He looked at his watch. 5:12 a.m. Much too early to go with Brother Baruch to the morning prayers. Rivka lay huddled beside him, her long black hair tangled about her face.
More pounding.
Ari reached for his tunic and tugged it over his head and down inside the thick scratchy wool blankets.
Rivka muttered in her sleep and snuggled close to him, clutching his arm.
“Rivkaleh.” Ari worked her fingers loose. “We have a visitor.”
The pounding downstairs continued.
Ari rolled out of bed and flung on his cloak. The house was freezing. He jammed his feet into his camel-leather sandals and wished for summer. At the door, he shouted, “Who is it?”
“Brother Ari, bring Sister Rivka!” Baruch’s voice. “Hana says it is her time.”
“We will come quickly, Brother Baruch.”
Ari
* * *
Six hours later, Ari sat in the downstairs room of Baruch’s house, wondering why they had hurried. Upstairs, Rivka and Midwife Marta were attending to Hana. Of course, all men were banished from the birthing room.
Baruch paced back and forth, a human metronome. Sunlight filtered in through the window slits high up in the wall. Ari wished he could speed the process. This waiting was unbearable, and Baruch’s pacing would drive them both insane.
Ari stood up and took Baruch’s arm. “My friend, I have a problem I would like to discuss with you.”
Baruch shot a nervous look upstairs.
Ari shook his head. “They will call us when the time comes.” He led the way outside. They sat down on a bench facing the sun, letting it warm th
eir faces. Ari told Baruch all about the disaster with the pump.
Baruch nodded dully at first, but soon the story caught his attention.
“You should not have made Hanan ben Hanan your enemy,” Baruch said. “This man is dangerous. His father killed Rabban Yeshua, and he is a man of violence like his father. When he becomes high priest—”
“Rivka says he will not,” Ari said. “Not soon, anyway. She says a man named Ishmael will be the next high priest.”
“Ishmael ben Phiabi?”
“Yes.”
Baruch shook his head. “It is not possible. Ishmael was never sagan. Everyone knows Hanan ben Hanan will be the next high priest. Perhaps Sister Rivka meant Ishmael ben Phiabi’s grandfather. He was high priest long ago.”
“I am ... not sure,” Ari said. “Rivka seemed certain.”
“Sister Rivka tells a dark tale of the future,” Baruch said. “She frightens me, Brother Ari. Such a tale of dread cannot be true.”
Ari shivered. Rivka had told Baruch almost nothing—only hints that an evil time approached.
“Do you believe her?” Baruch said.
Ari did not wish to answer this question. To answer was to face the reality that he could not escape the coming horror. He had chosen to live in this city, in this time. For Rivka’s sake. Had it all been a mistake? Evil stalked this city, waiting to pounce. The terrible unfairness of it crushed him. He had discussed this with Rivka once. The Problem of Evil. If HaShem was all-powerful and all-good, then why did he allow evil? An all-powerful being who allowed evil could not be all-good. An all-good being who could not prevent evil was not all-powerful. Ari preferred to think HaShem was good. Therefore, HaShem was not all-powerful. A disturbing thought.
Rivka believed that HaShem was both all-good and all-powerful—so good that he created people, so powerful that he gave them free will. And that made evil possible. If men could not choose evil, then they were not free. Therefore, the existence of evil was proof of HaShem’s great power to create those who could choose to oppose him.
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