“And you have come to see justice done. How noble.”
Hanan nodded. What was the king playing at? He had received a handsome gift from Hanan at the last New Year. Was it not enough? They had discussed this matter before, and they had reached a clear agreement. If Agrippa—
“Berenike?” The king turned his head. “Where is Berenike? Andreas, fetch my sister.”
The chief of staff turned and went out. Hanan waited, his heart thumping. Something had gone wrong, very wrong.
Footsteps.
Hanan turned to see the chief of staff returning with ... that woman. Hanan shuddered.
She wore a sleek silk tunic of a deep rich blue. Her hair was uncovered, braided atop her head like a crown. She wore no veil, and her eyes looked unnaturally large and liquid. She smiled at Hanan and met his gaze directly, like a common zonah.
Hanan’s heart quivered, and he fixed his eyes on the ground. Vile woman!
“Berenike, our friend Hanan ben Hanan is quite distressed at the performance of the high priest yesterday,” Agrippa said. “I think it would be most fitting if he were to help us choose the replacement. Have you brought the list of names the seer woman gave you?”
Seer woman? Hanan’s head jerked up. He stared at Agrippa.
The rattle of papyrus.
Hanan turned to look at Berenike. She unrolled a sheet of papyrus and gave it to him, her hand coming so close to his arm that her warmth scorched him.
He read the names. His own was not on the list.
“Choose one of those names,” Agrippa said. “We are most interested to hear your opinion.”
This must be an evil joke. Hanan looked at the king, then at ... that woman.
Laughter danced in her eyes. “Pick any name.”
They were making sport of him. If he refused their foolish game, he would lose all chance of ever becoming high priest. But if he accepted, he must name an interloper, someone to displace himself. Sweat ran down Hanan’s sides. He scanned the list again. Who would make the worst high priest? A name leaped out at him.
Ishmael ben Phiabi. The man’s grandfather had been a high priest many years ago. His father had a low intellect and had never been considered worthy of the office. Ishmael had the dull wits of his father.
Hanan smiled. If Agrippa wished to make a fool of him, he would return the favor.
“Ishmael.” He handed the papyrus back to Berenike. “You will find him a worthy successor to Hananyah ben Nadavayah.” Hanan made his best imitation of a bow and backed out of the room.
Berenike
* * *
Flickering gray spots danced before Berenike’s eyes. Ishmael! She had written the names of eight men on the papyrus, and Hanan had chosen the one—the very one—whom the seer woman said would be next. HaShem was making sport of her. Did she dare cross him ... again?
“Give me the list.” Agrippa reached an arm toward her.
Berenike handed him the papyrus, her fingers shaking.
Agrippa ran his finger down the list, then stared off into space. “You wrote down eight names, and still Hanan chose ... Ishmael.”
“It means nothing.” Berenike’s pounding heart told her this was a lie.
“I could name another and the seer woman would be proved wrong,” Agrippa said. “I could choose Hanan.”
“If you wish to violate a solemn oath, you could choose him.” Berenike shook her head, frightened. “And the seer woman could ...” She dared not think what the seer woman could do. The seer woman had promised to keep their secret safe, but would she hold to her promise if Agrippa violated his? They were sold to the seer woman.
The papyrus fell out of Agrippa’s hand.
“Ishmael,” Berenike said.
Agrippa nodded to his secretary. “Take a letter.”
Ari
* * *
This democracy is a wonderful thing!” Gamaliel shouted into Ari’s ear, his voice almost drowned by the din of the mob he had organized.
Ari was not so sure. The anger of the crowd terrified him.
“Tell the king again!” The young giant Brother Eleazar shouted to the mob from his perch on a small stage they had made of bricks.
“Away with Hananyah!” shouted the crowd. “Away with Hananyah!”
Which was ironic, because Hananyah was Brother Eleazar’s own father. From what Ari understood, they did not get along well. Had not for ten years, ever since Eleazar broke with family tradition and left the Sadducee party.
Worry gnawed at Ari’s heart. Brother Eleazar was a born demagogue. What have I created?
“Here comes the king!” somebody shouted.
Ari turned to look. The crowd surged forward, pressing him up against the iron bars of the palace gate.
A shadow emerged from the palace. No, it was not the king. Hanan ben Hanan stormed down the palace steps and into the courtyard. His face had gone purple with rage, and he strode across the court without looking at the crowd.
“Woe unto me from the House of Hanan!” Brother Eleazar’s great voice boomed across the court.
“Woe!” shouted the crowd.
Ari’s stomach knotted. This was not democracy. This was foolishness. Aristocrat-baiting. It would lead to—
Hanan made eye contact with Ari and stopped in midstride. His face twisted and his eyes narrowed to slits.
Ari tried to push away from the gate, but he was pinned by the crowd.
“Woe!” Brother Eleazar shouted again.
“Woe!” the crowd echoed, to general laughter.
Hanan came toward Ari. A vein throbbed in his neck.
“Woe!” the crowd roared. “Woe unto me from the House of Hanan!”
Hanan stopped in front of Ari.
Ari tried to breathe, but his chest had become iron. If Hanan has a dagger, I am a dead man.
Behind him, the mob pressed tighter, jamming Ari’s face up against the bars of the gate.
Hanan spit in Ari’s face.
“Woe!” screamed many hundred voices. “Woe!”
Rivka
* * *
Rachel had fallen asleep nursing. Her fat little tummy rose and fell, rose and fell.
Rivka leaned back in her rocking chair, smiling. If she could freeze this moment forever, she would be happy. A beautiful spring morning. A contented sleeping child. A few moments of peace.
A perfect day.
Downstairs, the door banged open. Footsteps raced up the stairs. Ari dashed into the room. “Ishmael!” he shouted.
Rachel woke up wailing.
“Ari, please!” Rivka rocked Rachel. “Shhh, shhh, sweetie! Back to sleep, Racheleh. Back to sleep.”
Slowly, Rachel quieted. Ari paced back and forth. “Rivka—”
“Just wait.” Rivka continued rocking Rachel. “I’ve almost got her asleep.” She stood up slowly and walked to the cradle, bouncing Rachel gently in her arms. “Now sleep, sweetheart. Just sleep for an hour, okay?” She nestled Rachel into her cradle and kissed her pink forehead. The smell of baby filled her nostrils.
She turned to Ari and pointed downstairs. They tiptoed out.
Ari’s face was shining. “Rivka, I am sorry I woke Rachel, but ... Ishmael ben Phiabi has just been named high priest!”
Rivka raised an eyebrow. “Well, of course. Didn’t I tell you he would? I just didn’t know when.”
Ari put his good arm around her. “Rivkaleh, I never doubted you. But the others did.”
Rivka’s body stiffened. “Others? What others?” She tilted her head to look up at Ari.
Joy lit his face. “All the others. Baruch. Gamaliel. Eleazar. Yoseph. All the Sons of Righteous Priests. I told them Agrippa would choose Ishmael—that you predicted it, that it was a certainty. And now they have seen and they believe!”
Irritation twisted a knot in Rivka’s belly. She had known Ishmael would be next. But these men still had to test her word—just because she was a woman. It was so ... silly. If she was a man wearing some leather prophet-suit, they�
�d come flocking and eat up whatever she said. But a woman? A woman had to actually be right.
“You do not see it?” Ari looked gleeful. “Now they will believe your prediction about the eclipse! Rivkaleh, this is the breakthrough we needed! Now all will believe the words of the seer woman. It is the will of HaShem, I think. Yes, the very will of HaShem.” He bent over and kissed her.
“Ari, please—don’t go telling everyone I predicted Ishmael. I don’t feel right about it. People are going to come asking me to tell their fortunes.” And I’ve already given in once. “Promise me you won’t go telling the whole world about my prediction.”
Ari gave a guilty shrug. “It is perhaps too late for that.”
Rivka felt a sudden rush of queasiness. “What are you talking about?”
“There are many hundred men who were with me at the palace of Agrippa this morning. All of them are now telling the whole city that Rivka the seer woman predicts that the sun will turn to darkness on the day of the new moon.”
“That’s only seven days from now.”
Ari nodded. “The whole city will know by this time tomorrow.”
Chapter Seventeen
Rivka
* * *
ON THE MORNING OF THE eclipse, it rained. Only a little, but rain after Pesach was not usual in Jerusalem. People muttered and stared at the heavens and bought extra food at the market. After midday, the skies cleared and tension began mounting in the city. Many people went to the Temple to await the eclipse predicted by the seer woman.
Rivka refused to go. Despite Ari’s confidence that there would be no panic, last-minute doubts gripped her. Was it possible that because of her prediction, people would panic? She fed Rachel at noon and put her to bed for an afternoon nap and went up on the roof to await the spectacle in the heavens.
Thanks to Ari, the whole city knew the eclipse was coming and what it meant. It was not a dragon eating the sun, nor Satan battling HaShem in the heavens. It was just the moon moving in front of the sun. True, you wouldn’t see the moon until the sunlight was completely blocked out. Then it would be safe to look up, and you would see that a round object obscured the sun. The moon. All very simple and scientific.
Rivka was trembling.
Her fears did not make sense, of course. Ari’s logic was foolproof. Today was the last day of the lunar month. The eclipse had to come today. Ari didn’t know the exact time of what he called the “syzygy,” but Rivka was pretty sure it would come around three in the afternoon. She waited, her eyes fixed on the circle of light cast by a pinhole camera Ari had built out of papyrus.
The sun beat down on her.
Around 1:30, she went back inside to get a drink of beer. When she returned, she saw that the circle of sunlight in the camera had a small bite missing from it—like one of those Apple Macintosh logos. All of a sudden, sweat stood out on her arms. The eclipse had begun. Minutes passed, and the bite in the circle of light grew larger. Larger.
Ari
* * *
The Sons of Righteous Priests cheered when Ari’s pinhole camera showed a small slice missing from the sun’s light. “It is beginning!” Brother Eleazar roared.
They had gathered in the very center of the Court of Women in the Temple. The place surged with humanity—tens of thousands, Ari estimated. Only those few nearest the camera could see the circle of light, but that would soon change. When totality arrived, all the world would see.
At Eleazar’s shout, many in the crowd looked up nervously at the sun—something Ari had warned them not to do. Until totality, the sun remained dangerous to look at. Even with ninety-nine percent of its disk obscured, the ultraviolet radiation could blind you.
Ari felt calm, confident now. Thanks be to HaShem, with the help of his woman, he and his friends had prevented a panic—just as history said they must. He scanned the crowd for signs of disorder.
North, east, south—all was calm. A tense calm, but no signs of fear. Like the last moments before the fireworks began on the Americans’ Fourth of July.
Ari turned to the west, toward the altar and the sanctuary.
Hundreds of priests packed the Court of Priests and the steps leading down from the Nicanor Gate. The afternoon sacrifices were due to begin in a bit more than an hour. By then, the eclipse would be ended. It would be good to worship HaShem today. Though he had never seen a total eclipse, he had heard that the event inspired extraordinary feelings of awe. Perhaps today he would feel the Spirit?
“It is two parts gone!” Eleazar shouted. “The moment is approaching!”
Ari looked back at the image on the stone pavement.
Two-thirds of the sun was missing, and yet still the difference in daylight was very little. That would change very soon now.
“There he is!” A grin broadened Gamaliel’s voice. “Our friend has come out of hiding to see the prediction of Ari the Kazan come true.”
Ari turned once more toward the Temple.
Hanan ben Hanan stood on the uppermost steps, just inside the Nicanor Gate.
Even at this distance—at least fifty meters—Ari read the hatred on his face. He shrugged. Hanan had chosen to make him an enemy, had scoffed at this “eclipse of Kazan,” had darkly warned against the sorcery of Kazan. After today, it would not matter. Nobody would ever listen to Hanan ben Hanan’s scoffing again.
“It is nine parts gone!” Eleazar bellowed.
An expectant hush settled over the people.
Ari looked at the camera again. Yes, nine-tenths of the disk had vanished. He risked a glance up at the sun.
Its radiance scorched his eyes. As he should have known. The sunlight seemed hardly lessened from an hour ago. The darkness would come in a flood in the last few seconds before totality, the vast shadows racing across the landscape at terrifying speed. If they were lucky, totality would last six or seven minutes and then—
“Ari the Kazan, what is happening?” Gamaliel asked.
Ari looked again at the disk on the camera. It had not shrunk at all in the last couple of minutes, and that seemed odd. “Just wait a little. The darkness will surely come.”
Eleazar cupped his hands to his mouth. “Ari the Kazan says that the darkness will surely come in just a few moments! The mouth of HaShem has spoken it through the seer woman! Be ready!”
They waited. A lethargic breeze pushed the hot stifling air around the crowded court.
Ari wiped the sweat off his forehead. Was it his imagination, or—
The quiet mutter of voices ran around the circle of men who could see the pinhole camera.
Ari blinked twice. No. This was not possible.
“Ari the Kazan.” Gamaliel cleared his throat. “The sun is now only four parts gone.”
Ari did not know what to say, but his eyes told him that Gamaliel was correct. Only four-fifths of the sun was now obscured. “Just ... wait,” he said.
“Ari the Kazan says to wait!” Eleazar bellowed to the throng. “Wait just a little longer for the sun to be darkened!”
Fear like a flame heated Ari’s belly.
As the minutes ticked by, the circle of light grew to half the disk, then to two-thirds. The sound of whispering assaulted his ears on all sides.
When the sun’s disk had restored itself to nine-tenths of its original size, Ari admitted the truth to himself. He looked up at Brother Eleazar. “It is ... not going to happen.” Something blurred Ari’s vision. “Please tell the people not to panic, but there will be no more eclipse today.”
“Tomorrow?” Gamaliel said.
“No.” Ari turned and closed his eyes, feeling the full horror of what he had done. Better to have done nothing than this disaster. “Not tomorrow. Not ever. There will be no eclipse, except what we have seen.”
Which was precious little. Those few men near the pinhole camera had seen what Ari saw. They knew he had been right—mostly.
And the many ten thousand who had waited in dread for the great sign in the heavens? They had seen nothing. The sun
had dimmed a small amount—as if a bit of cloud had covered it. But for them, there had been no eclipse.
For those tens of thousands, Kazan and the seer woman were false prophets.
Baruch
* * *
Baruch’s heart burned within him as they walked home. Brother Ari walked as a blind man, staggering in the full light of day. Baruch guided him by the arm. “Courage, Brother Ari.”
A rotten egg sailed from an unseen hand above them on a rooftop, splattering their feet. “Navi shakar, Kazan!” False prophet.
Baruch quickened his pace. “I saw the circle of light! Nine parts of the sun disappeared, whatever the people may think.”
“I am a fool, Brother Baruch. I should not have meddled. We knew there was to be no panic. We should have let things take their course.”
“It was an honest mistake.” Baruch tried to sound convincing, but he felt no conviction. Had not Sister Rivka assured them that the eclipse would come? In what else might she have erred?
When they reached Brother Ari’s home, Baruch helped unlock the door and they escaped inside.
Sister Rivka stood waiting for them, her face shocked and pale. “Ari!” She threw her arms around Brother Ari. “I ... Ari, please don’t be angry with me! The book said nine parts of the sun would vanish. I thought that would be almost the same as a total eclipse.”
Baruch turned his head, unable to look on the dishonor of his friend. He knew what it was to be dishonored through no fault of his own.
“Ari!” Rivka began weeping. “Can you forgive me?”
Baruch wondered that a woman could ask such a foolish question. Had she no understanding of honor? Did she know nothing of what she had done? Ari’s honor was destroyed, smashed beyond redemption.
A false prophet could never hope to recover his honor, not while he walked under the sun.
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