Ari’s heart was stone within him. Could he have prevented this? What if he had listened to Rivka sooner? What if he had kept a closer watch on Shmuel? Ari thought of the many things he could have done, and had not.
Brother Yohanan arrived, whose brother was a Temple guard. All the men gathered around him. His face twitched with raw anger. “The Temple guards went out early in the morning to the Pool of Siloam,” Yohanan said. “They knew Brother Shmuel was sleeping there with many men. But Shmuel had already gone, and the guards returned empty.”
Yohanan twisted a strand of his beard, his face anguished. “Then the chief priests sent to King Agrippa, and he asked the governor to send out soldiers, and they went out and killed our brothers.”
Yohanan’s voice cracked. “It was Hanan ben Hanan who went to the king. He told Agrippa that Brother Shmuel had gone out with ...” He looked around the circle, and his eye fell on Ari. “... with Ari the Kazan.”
Ari felt a giant fist seize his insides. He could not breathe. The air felt very hot, and the walls swayed. He put a hand on Baruch’s shoulder to steady himself.
For a moment, silence hung over the synagogue. Then everybody began talking at once.
Ari heard only fragments.
“... wanted to kill Brother Ari.”
“... pray to HaShem against the House of Hanan.”
“... set fire to his palace.”
Ari felt shocked. Angry. This was outrage. Hanan had meant to kill him because he was with Shmuel. A sick feeling hit him in the gut. What if ... Shmuel was not the target? What if Hanan had meant to kill Shmuel only because he was with Kazan?
Why should Hanan want Shmuel dead, after all? Hanan did not know Brother Shmuel. Therefore, he could not hate him, nor the others who had gone out of the city. Hanan hated Ari, and on his account he had killed Shmuel and fifty other men.
Ari slumped to his knees, nauseous with anger.
“Brother Ari, are you well?” Baruch knelt beside him. “Bring a drink!”
Ari clutched Baruch.
Yaakov the tsaddik brought a small wineskin and held it to Ari’s lips.
Ari drank. He saw that even Yaakov burned now, burned with a righteous anger at the House of Hanan. Ari looked around the circle at these men who loved him, though he did not follow the Rabban. He must tell them the truth. They would hate him for it. “Hanan ben Hanan has made me his enemy,” he said. “On my account, he killed our brothers.”
Ari closed his eyes, unable to meet their gaze.
Hands gripped him, all around.
Ari flinched. Whatever they did to him, he deserved.
“We curse you,” someone said in a tight voice that froze Ari’s blood. “We curse you, Hanan ben Hanan, who tried to kill our Brother Ari.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Hanan ben Hanan
* * *
A WEEK LATER, WHEN THE feast of Sukkot ended, the Sanhedrin agreed to meet with Governor Festus to discuss the matter of the wall Ishmael ben Phiabi had built. The governor looked impatient, Hanan thought. He was learning that Jews were not easy men to rule.
“The matter is very simple,” Festus said. “You must remove the wall which you have added atop your Temple. It is blocking the view of my soldiers who stand guard on the portico roofs.”
Hanan translated this into Aramaic.
Ishmael ben Phiabi shook his head. “Let King Agrippa demolish his new dining room and then we will think on it.”
Hanan repeated this in Greek.
Festus folded his arms across his chest. “I have no time for the feud between you priests and Agrippa. My men require to have a view of the entire outer courts of the Temple Mount. You have taken this away by building that wall. I demand that the wall come down.”
Hanan translated.
A dozen chief priests began talking at once.
Ishmael raised his hands and bellowed for silence. He glowered at the governor. “Excellency, you have authority over many things in this province—the building of roads and the extortion of taxes and the keeping of peace. But the Temple is our domain and Caesar gives us absolute rights to see to its maintenance. Now this wall in dispute is a part of our Temple, and therefore a part of our religion. It would be unbearable to us to dismantle any part of our Temple, and by Caesar’s order, we may refuse any request to do so. In our view, the matter lies between us and Agrippa, not between you and us. We refuse your order.”
Hanan translated to Greek.
Festus listened in fuming silence. He turned to the three councillors he had brought along and they debated in heated whispers. Finally, Festus turned back to face the Sanhedrin. “You must take down the wall. I am ordered by Caesar to protect the peace within your Temple, and this I cannot do while that wall stands. Your religious observances never required this wall until now. I demand that you dismantle it at once.”
Hanan translated this.
Ishmael made a secret hand signal to Hanan.
Hanan took a step toward the governor. “Excellency, perhaps I might make a suggestion.”
“Speak.”
“The source of the provocation is King Agrippa. We have no authority over him, and unfortunately, neither do you, since his territories lie outside your jurisdiction.”
“Caesar appointed Agrippa king,” Festus said.
“And that is my point,” Hanan said. “Caesar has authority over him. If you would permit us to send an embassy to Caesar, the matter might be resolved quickly. We believe that Caesar will rule in our favor, forcing Agrippa to dismantle his dining room. Then we will take down our wall. But we are an obstinate people, and every one of us would die rather than permit an offense to the Temple.”
Festus looked skeptical. “Ishmael is high priest, not you. Do you have authority to discuss this with me?”
“I could persuade Ishmael if you give him a certain inducement.”
“And that would be what?”
“Ishmael would insist on leading the delegation to Caesar. It would raise his honor to confront Caesar himself.”
“I suppose you also wish to go?”
Hanan shook his head. “Ishmael would never permit me to go. I come from a more honored family, and he sees me as a threat.”
“Ask him for the names of the delegation and I will consider the matter.”
Hanan nodded. “Very good, Excellency.” He turned and strode to Ishmael.
Ishmael leaned forward. “What does he think of our proposal?”
Hanan sighed deeply. “The governor is a harsh negotiator. He thinks that this is only a delaying tactic. He refuses to consider it unless you yourself lead the delegation.”
Ishmael scowled. “You told him I spit on Rome and will never soil my feet there?”
“He is unyielding on the matter.”
“You could go in my place.”
Hanan had gone to Rome once with his brother Yonatan on just such an embassy. While there, he developed a stomach illness, and in the end Felix was named governor. Altogether an evil result. “Festus refuses to accept any man without position in the Temple.”
“I could reinstate you as sagan.” Ishmael looked ill at his own suggestion.
Hanan did not wish to be sagan in Rome. “You could also make a dog your chief treasurer. Festus would consider it an insult, that you make such an appointment in order to circumvent his will. I can not take such a proposal to him.”
“What does he want?”
“He wants the ten most eminent men in the Temple.”
Ishmael scowled. “Then who will run the Temple? We might be gone for a whole year! Tell him I must leave at least my sagan here.” Ishmael leaned back. “I refuse to consider it unless he agrees at least to this.”
Hanan did not want the sagan to remain, but he saw that Ishmael would not yield. Finally he nodded. “I will ask him.”
He went back to the governor. “Ishmael agrees. He insists that he must lead the delegation. His captain of the Temple, Yoseph Kabi, will remain. The remai
nder of the party will consist of the senior men in the Temple ...” Hanan named the ten men who would go.
Festus gave a curt nod. “Agreed. See to it that they sail before the seaports close for the winter.”
Berenike
* * *
The fall and winter passed in peace. The city held its breath, waiting to hear the end of the matter of the wall. On the new moon before Pesach, the first mail ship arrived in Caesarea, and two letters came at last to the Hasmonean Palace in Jerusalem. Berenike’s spies told her and she hurried to join Agrippa as he opened the letters.
Agrippa slit the wax seals on the two letters with a small knife. “Which one shall I read first?”
Berenike was dying to see the one from King Polemon, but she knew Agrippa desperately wanted to see the other one. “Read the one from Caesar.”
Agrippa unrolled it and laid out marble weights on the parchment. He read it aloud.
“Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus, Imperator, to Marcus Julius Agrippa, greetings. Whereas certain priests of the Jewish religion have appeared before me requesting that I settle a dispute between them and you, I make known to you my decision. You are not required to demolish any part of your palace. As for the wall on the Jewish temple, at which daily sacrifices are offered on my behalf, neither are the Jews required to take down any part of it. I am sending a letter to Porcius Festus, governor of Judea, with instructions to make no further demands on the temple hierarchy. My wife Poppea is much interested in your religion and has required that your high priest, Ishmael the son of Phiabi, shall be retained here in Rome indefinitely. As the Judean province has been restless of late, I will keep this Ishmael as a token of the good behavior of the Jewish people. Accordingly, you will appoint a new high priest.”
Berenike stepped to the window and looked out. Caesar had settled the matter quickly. They had lost on the matter of the wall and won on the matter of the dining room. And they were rid of Ishmael.
Agrippa began pacing. “Excellent! I will notify the chief priestly houses privately that I am now accepting gifts for consideration for the high priesthood.”
Berenike tensed. “What of your promise to the seer woman? Hanan ben Hanan is hungry. He will give the biggest gift.”
Agrippa shrugged. “What if he does? How will he know whose is biggest? How will anyone?”
“So you will keep your promise?”
A slight hesitation. “A man of honor keeps his word,” Agrippa said. “The seer woman has not been wrong in her predictions. I will choose Yoseph Kabi, whatever Hanan pays.”
Berenike hoped the seer woman’s next prediction would come true. “Perhaps we should consult the letter from Polemon.”
Agrippa smiled. “You are most patient.” He returned to the table and rolled open the parchment.
“Polemon, King of Pontus and Cilicia, to Marcus Julius Agrippa, grace and peace. In view of the generous offer you have made to me on behalf of your sister Berenike, be it known that I agree to your terms in full ...”
Agrippa continued reading, but Berenike did not need to hear any more. The seer woman had been right. Polemon, a man the age of Papa, had agreed to marry her in exchange for more silver talents than any man had a right to even look at. And he agreed to the terms Papa had laid down long ago—that any man who married a daughter of the House of Herod would be circumcised. Whether he followed any other commandments was up to him, but he would be a Jew.
And she would be a queen. Not a widow queen, but a real one, married to a real man. The only one to lose in this business was Agrippa, who would have to pay the silver and would no longer have her aid in matters politic.
“... greet your sister Berenike for me.” Agrippa set down the parchment, his face tight. He shook his head. “Who would have believed Polemon would submit to the knife at his age? How did the seer woman know?”
Berenike headed toward the door. “You can ask her tomorrow. I am going to invite her over to thank her for her help.”
“What help? I did this myself.”
Berenike wanted to laugh. With me holding a knife to your throat, you did it yourself. “All true, but we never would have considered Polemon without her suggestion.”
“Of course we would have.” Agrippa looked offended. “I had been considering him in my mind for some time before she suggested it.”
“No doubt.” Berenike went out, fuming. Either Agrippa was lying or telling the truth. She could not decide which of those alternatives disturbed her more.
Hanan ben Hanan
* * *
Hanan gave Agrippa a thin smile. “I congratulate you on the announcement of your sister’s wedding.” He hesitated. There had been vile rumors about Agrippa and his sister for months. Hanan rarely listened to such idle gossip.
Except that Agrippa was yet unmarried and already a man in his thirties. Such a man should have married long ago. And his sister, though a woman of astonishing beauty, likewise had remained a widow a long time. It was obvious that this marriage was intended to end the rumors. “I understand you will be making a rather large gift to King Polemon, and I should like to contribute something toward that end. Five silver talents.”
And if you consider it a bribe, that is merely your own interpretation.
Agrippa’s eyebrows shifted upward. “I thank you for your ... generosity on behalf of my sister.”
Hanan inclined his head modestly. Generosity was the wrong word. He had servants who knew servants in the houses of the other chief priests. And he knew for a fact that Yoseph Kabi had offered four talents. An outrageous amount. Even Hananyah ben Nadavayah had never paid so much. Hanan had borrowed money from his brothers in order to raise the cash on short notice. He would pay them back when he was high priest, but he would not tolerate losing again. Kazan’s woman had cheated him last time. Now she was in disgrace, cursed as a “witch woman” by the whole city. Agrippa must use a more rational method of selection this time.
Agrippa’s chief of staff entered and discreetly whispered in the king’s ear.
Agrippa nodded. “Tell her I will speak with her guest shortly.” He turned back to Hanan. “As I was saying, your generosity comes at an opportune moment. King Polemon asked much in exchange for becoming a Jew.”
“I wish your sister long life and many sons.” Hanan bowed slightly and backed toward the door.
“Andreas will show you out.” Agrippa nodded to his chief of staff.
Andreas opened the door and Hanan stepped through. His palms were sweating, but his heart felt light. Five talents! It was far too much, but nobody would exceed it.
Andreas led him down the hall to a marble stairway. They descended in silence.
A woman’s laughter, off to the right.
Hanan craned his neck to look.
The queen stood at a fountain, her arm extended, tickling the spray. She wore no veil, not even a hair covering. Hanan wanted to look away, disgusted by this vile display of her beauty.
But he could not break his eyes away. Beside the queen stood a slight young woman, her hair modestly wrapped in a silk head-covering. She was unveiled, and she stood in profile to Hanan, laughing at something, her hand also in the spray of the fountain.
Kazan’s woman! Hanan felt vinegar in his belly. Why had she come? She was in disgrace. What reason could she have for talking with the queen? For laughing with the queen?
Berenike said something.
Kazan’s woman turned toward Hanan and their eyes locked.
He read fear in her eyes. Fear and anger and disdain. She dared to dishonor him! Dared to look him in the eye, as if she were a common woman of the street, as if he were a man who looked at such women.
Hanan stopped himself from spitting in her direction only just in time. Not in Agrippa’s palace. Not today, while his gift to Agrippa had yet to buy the king’s favor.
He broke her gaze and marched down the stairs, feeling the hot blood in his face, his heart beating with fury. As Kazan’s woman, so Kazan. And so all the me
ssianics. When Hanan came into his rightful office, such vile scum would be dealt with. He would teach them to give honor to those to whom honor was due.
Rivka
* * *
Rivka’s heart pounded. Hanan was stomping down the stairs like he owned the place. Why was he here? She turned to Berenike. “Your brother promised me something once regarding Hanan ben Hanan.”
Berenike put a hand on her shoulder. “He will keep his word. I asked him specifically about his promise.”
“And ...?”
Berenike laughed. “He said a man of honor keeps his word.”
He had not answered the question. Rivka wanted to ask if Berenike thought Agrippa was a man of honor, but she already knew the answer.
A cold fist grabbed her insides and twisted very hard.
Part 4: Premonition
Fall, A.D. 62
Anyone who ponders these things will find that God does care for people, and by all sorts of ways shows his people the means of salvation, while it is to folly and evils of their own choosing that they owe their destruction.... For all that, it is impossible for people to escape their fate, even if they see it coming.
Josephus, The Jewish War, VI (310, 314)
translated by Gaalya Cornfeld
Chapter Thirty-Three
Rivka
* * *
ON A HOT SUMMER DAY three years after Governor Festus took office, Rivka heard an angry knocking at her door. She left Rachel playing with her wooden blocks and hurried downstairs.
Hana stood outside, clutching Dov’s hand. Her blotchy face and red eyes told Rivka everything. Another fight with Baruch. “Rivka, we must talk.”
Premonition Page 29