He buried his face in her chest and wept.
Baruch came back into the kitchen and stood in the doorway and his face was stone.
Tears came to Hana’s eyes. He was a good man, a kind man, except in the matter of the boy. He could not love the boy, and therefore he could not love her, because the boy was a part of her. She had done as Rivka asked—to wait and see. Now see. Every day, the boy cried for his Abba.
No more. She glared up at him. No more will I live with you like this. His eyes told her that he understood and that even so, he would not change. He would say that he could not change, but that was a lie. A man could change, if he would. But Baruch would not. Therefore, she must go. She and the boy. There was no joy in this house, and she could not live like this.
A knock at the door.
Baruch flinched as if he had been slapped. He stepped to the door and silently lowered the heavy wooden bar across it. The wood scraped as it fell into place. He turned and put a finger to his lips.
Hana felt the hot blood drain out of her face. “Who is it?” she whispered.
He mouthed one word. “Bandits.”
More pounding. “Baruch! An urgent message from Ari the Kazan!”
“Ari the Kazan!” Dov shouted, his voice full of joy. “Open the door, Abba! A message from Ari the Kazan!”
Baruch crossed to Dov in two steps and slapped him full across the mouth. “Silence!”
Dov began screaming.
Baruch raced upstairs.
Hana knelt by Dov, furious at Baruch, terrified by the pounding. “Shhhhh, little bear!”
Baruch returned with a dagger.
Something crashed against the door.
Hana shuddered, remembering the night the bandits had taken Rivka for ransom. Tonight, they had come for Baruch.
Another crash. Iron against wood. The door splintered.
Dov wailed and hid his face in Hana’s heart.
She patted his back and looked to Baruch.
He stood like stone, waiting for the bandits.
Another crash, then another and another. Pieces of the door flew in. An iron bar poked through, hooked the wooden bar, lifted it off the brackets. The next instant, the whole door broke apart.
Baruch sprang forward and swung his dagger. It caught on the doorframe, smashing the mezuzah.
Strong hands grabbed the dagger and wrenched it from his grasp. Two bandits lunged in and grabbed Baruch’s arms.
He fought like a tiger, but one of the bandits hit him in the face and the belly. The others bound his arms behind his back and tied a rag across his mouth, cinching it down hard so it wedged between his teeth.
Hana flung herself at the bandits. “Leave him alone! Take me and do with me as you will, but leave him!”
One of them laughed and slapped her hard. “Our business is with him tonight. Tomorrow, make us an offer!”
“Bandits!” Hana screamed. The neighbors must hear. They must come to help. “Bandits! Help us!”
“Fool!” The leader spat in Hana’s face. “We are Temple guards, and this man is arrested by order of Hanan ben Hanan.” He shoved at Hana’s chest with both hands.
She staggered back, slammed into the wall. Dizziness took her.
“Abba!” Dov shouted.
Baruch
* * *
Baruch’s head spun to look at the boy.
Dov rushed to throw his arms around Baruch’s waist, then shook his tiny fist at the Temple guards. “You ... you bad men! Go away. You must not touch my abba. He will not talk to you. He cannot talk to you. You must not bother him.”
Acid heat burned through Baruch’s body. Dov was repeating words Hana must have told him for years. Do not touch Abba. He will not talk to you. He cannot talk to you. You must not bother him.
One of the men tore Dov away from Baruch, set him down, and punched him hard in the belly.
Dov fell to the floor, screaming. “Abba!”
The men seized Baruch’s arms. “Walk!” The leader took a fistful of Baruch’s beard and yanked forward.
Baruch walked.
Behind him, he could hear Hana’s muffled sobs, Dov screaming. “Abba! Abba! Come back! Abba, I love you!”
Shame pierced Baruch’s heart. For all Dov’s life, he had rejected the boy, ignored him, refused him. Yet still the boy loved him as a father.
Baruch knew he was not worthy of such love. Could never be worthy of such love. The door of his heart shattered inward. Repentance crushed his soul.
He wept.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ari
* * *
ARI SPENT THE EVENING MEAL discussing the events of the afternoon with Rivka in tense whispers while Racheleh gabbled on, unaware.
“Josephus tells about Yeshua ben Hananyah,” Rivka said. “He began lamenting the doom of the city at this feast and kept it up for more than seven years. He was harmless—never hurt a fly—even when the governor examined him by flaying.”
“Flaying?” Ari’s stomach tightened into a knot of fear.
Rivka looked down at Racheleh. “You don’t want to know.”
“What happened to him?” Ari whispered.
Rivka put her hand on Ari’s arm. “I’ll tell you sometime when we’re not eating. I’m terrified about Yaakov. Make him leave the city again! I saw Hanan’s face this afternoon. He had a spirit of rage. Where did Yaakov go after you left him?”
Ari patted her arm. “He will be safe tonight. He is praying with the elders.”
“Where?”
“I do not know. I will warn him tomorrow at the morning prayers.”
Rivka stood and began clearing the table. “I’m so sorry I forgot about Yeshua ben Hananyah.”
“Yeshua!” Rachel sang out. “Rabban Yeshua!”
Ari kissed Rachel’s forehead and stood up. In the morning, he must find Yaakov and ... protect him until he could go into hiding.
The gun. Yes, it was time to take the gun out of hiding. The weapon was precious. Damien West had brought a gun through the wormhole, had died with three bullets loaded. Ari still had the gun and the bullets, and he had been reserving them for true emergencies.
This was a true emergency.
Tomorrow, he would clean the gun and go stand watch over Yaakov. He should have thought of that earlier, but he had believed Rivka—that the danger was over already weeks ago. Ari went upstairs to check that the gun was still in its deeply buried hiding place. If Rivka knew the gun was in the house, she would, as the Americans said, give birth to a cow. He had told her it was with “a friend,” but he had not told her that the only friend he would entrust it to was himself.
A knock downstairs.
Ari froze. He heard Rivka’s steps.
“Who is it?” she called through the door.
A pause, then a muffled voice from the street.
“Ari!” Rivka shouted up the stairs. “Your friend Yoseph is outside! All he will say is that he brings word from Eleazar!”
Blessed be HaShem. Yoseph was a Temple guard. Perhaps he or Eleazar had heard some rumor. Ari raced down the stairs and stopped in front of the door. “This may be Temple business. It would be better if you go upstairs.”
Rivka nodded. “I don’t want to talk to Yoseph anyway. He’s way too snooty to talk to a mere woman.”
Ari waited until she had gone upstairs with Rachel, then unlatched the door and pulled it open.
A fist hit him in the stomach.
Ari crumpled, fighting for air. The man who had hit him was not Brother Yoseph. Ari caught a glimpse of the white linen tunic of a Temple guard. Then something slammed into his face.
“Ari!” Rivka screamed from upstairs.
Ari lunged for the man who had hit him, but his fingers would not close into a fist, his lungs would not draw breath.
Two of the men grabbed Ari’s arms and twisted.
An agony shot through his shoulders.
They stepped behind him and drew his arms up tight, lashing them together.
&nb
sp; Steps from above. “What are you creeps doing? Get away from my—”
The sound of flesh on flesh.
Rivka screamed.
A hand grabbed Ari’s beard and yanked it down. “You will come with us, Kazan. Order your woman to stay here. We will set a watch, and if she leaves, we will take both her and the child.”
Terror kicked Ari in the heart. Racheleh. If they touched Racheleh, he would die. “Rivka,” he said through clenched teeth. “You will stay here with Racheleh, is that understood?”
“Yes ... my master.”
Master. That must be code, but Ari could not decipher it.
“Come with us, Kazan.” The man holding Ari’s beard tugged it forward.
Ari followed, while hot tears formed in his eyes. The gun. If he had gotten the gun, they could not have done this. If Rivka could find it and come rescue ... No, she did not know it was in the house. She would do something foolish, but she would not do the one thing that could save him. Because she did not know.
Rivka
* * *
Rage roared in Rivka’s heart. Who were those men? She had not seen Yoseph among them, but they did look like Temple guards. She needed help. Yoseph, or better yet, that awful man Eleazar. He was sagan now. He could make them stop.
But ... since Eleazar was sagan, those men were under his command. Was he behind this—arresting an innocent man in the middle of the night? Why?
With a rush of fear, she knew. Yaakov the tsaddik. What had Josephus said? She’d been so focused on protecting him, she’d forgotten to think. Josephus said Hanan arrested James, and some others. “Please, HaShem, no!” Rivka fell on the floor. Did those “others” include ... Ari? He wasn’t even a believer.
Rivka crawled to the open door and peered out onto the street. The men said they would post a watch. A bluff? She would have to risk it. If she did nothing, Ari would be killed, and Yaakov, and more. She had to get help or they would all die. Baruch and Hana lived only two streets over. Two minutes’ walk. Baruch would help her.
Rivka pushed herself to her feet and raced upstairs. “Rachel, come now! We’re going ... to see Dov! Do you want to see Dov?” Her voice sounded shrill in her own ears.
Rachel was hiding upstairs, crying. “Why were you shouting at Abba?”
“Not Abba. Some bad men. Now come! We’ll go see Dov.” Rivka found a dark cloak for Rachel. “It’s a surprise, yes, Racheleh? You must go very quietly and obey me.”
“A surprise!” Rachel shrieked. “Goodie!”
Rivka threw a cloak over her own shoulders. “I’m going to carry you, Racheleh.”
“I want to walk!”
Rivka bent low and gave Rachel her fiercest look. “Rachel, I will carry you, or you will not go! And you must be very quiet!”
Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t be angry on me, Imma! I’ll be good! I promise!”
Rivka scooped her up. “Let’s go, sweetheart. Shhhhhh! Surprise Dov.”
Rachel nodded her head, already keeping her promise.
Rivka tiptoed down the stairs and grabbed a lighted olive oil lamp. She added more olive oil from a jug, then dusted the surface of the oil liberally with cinnamon powder. The soothing aroma of the burning spice calmed her senses.
Rachel clung to her.
Rivka slipped out into the night, pulling the door locked behind her. Please, HaShem, let there be nobody watching. She moved quietly down the street, her ears poised for any sound.
Nothing.
She walked half a block, then dared to look back.
A dark shape moved behind her.
Rivka’s heart stopped. We will set a watch, and if she leaves, we will take both her and the child. She was going to be killed. And Rachel too.
The shape came rapidly nearer. A man, dressed as a Temple guard. He carried a club in his right hand. A leering white smile cut a hideous hole in his beard.
Rivka knew she could not run away—not carrying Rachel. She could scream, but who would come to the aid of the witch woman? If the neighbors had not helped Ari, they would not help her.
She lowered Rachel to the ground. “Stand right here, sweetie, and look that way while I talk to this man. If I tell you to run, don’t look back. Just run as fast as you can to Dov’s house.”
Rachel stared at her, eyes wide and fearful.
Rivka turned and took a few steps toward the approaching Temple guard.
His eyes caressed her body greedily.
Rivka waited, her heart beating a ragged rhythm in her chest. One way or another, this was going to be an extremely short conversation.
He came closer. Closer. Switched his club to his left hand and reached for her with his right.
Rivka tossed a lampful of spiced oil into his face.
He screamed, clawed at his eyes.
Rivka twisted around and kicked backward with her heel, straight into his stomach.
He buckled in the middle.
She spun back and yanked his club away. Gripped it like a softball bat. She hadn’t done this in years, but ... She swung.
The club connected with his head. Not a home run, just a little bloop single.
The man staggered and fell to his knees.
Rivka whacked him again in the face.
He pitched forward onto the ground, screaming.
It’s you or my daughter, buddy. Sorry, but that’s no choice at all. She hit him again, this time in the kidneys. Then she grabbed Rachel and ran.
By the first corner, she was staggering, winded. She pressed on. If she could find Baruch, together they could try to save Ari. At the second corner, her breath was coming in great ragged gasps.
Rivka felt like she would faint. Rachel was so ... heavy, and she was so frightened, and Baruch had to help her, and ...
And the door of Baruch’s house was shattered.
Rivka lurched to the entry and peered in.
Hana huddled on the floor with Dov, wailing. The doors of all the neighboring homes were shut against the terror by night.
“Hana!” Rivka shouted.
Hana looked up, her eyes bleary and red, her face twisted with anguish.
“The men in white tunics took Abba!” Dov shouted.
“Temple guards?” Rivka said.
Hana nodded.
Rivka grabbed her hand. “Get up! We’ve got to do something!”
Hana shook her head. “I do not know where they are taken. And what can two women do?”
“More than you think,” Rivka said. “I just made mashed potatoes out of one of those guards. We’re going to Hanan’s palace and we’re going to ...”
She stopped. Going to what? Was she a raving lunatic? Sure, she had caught one guard by surprise and punched his lights out. But a whole palace of Temple guards?
She wasn’t Superman. Wasn’t even Clark Kent. She was just an angry mama with two four-year-olds and a weepy girlfriend who had already thrown in the towel.
If Hanan wanted to kill Ari and Baruch and Yaakov and ... whoever else, there was nothing she could do about it. She hadn’t prevented anything by her meddling—she had made things worse.
Rivka slumped onto the floor. If Josephus was any guide at all, Hanan was going to win.
Bigger than she had imagined.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Hanan ben Hanan
* * *
HANAN’S BODY TWITCHED WITH ANTICIPATION. “Lead the prisoners in.”
A Temple guard went out. Shortly, he returned leading fifteen men, their feet bare, their hands bound behind them. Two of them were bloodied about the head. All looked frightened, except Kazan. Rage twisted his face. He would learn fear soon enough.
Hanan looked to his right.
His protege, Yeshua ben Gamaliel, looked fierce and eager.
On Hanan’s left, his nephew Mattityahu ben Theophilus leaned back in his chair, his eyes half-closed. Hanan knew Mattityahu was not asleep—he was listening, and he would forget none of what he heard.
“We are
met tonight to consider the case against you men,” Hanan said. “We have a quorum of three judges—me, Rabbi Yeshua ben Gamaliel, and my distinguished nephew Mattityahu ben Theophilus. You are accused—”
“This is an illegal proceeding.” Kazan looked agitated. “You are not permitted to try men at night. We demand to be tried in daylight before the full Sanhedrin.”
Hanan glared at him. “Kazan, you will not speak out of turn. I have called this Sanhedrin of three judges, which is the minimum number required—”
“The minimum is seventy-one!” Kazan’s face had turned a deep red.
Hanan pointed to a guard, who slapped Kazan with the back of his hand.
A trickle of blood formed at the corner of Kazan’s mouth.
Two guards grabbed Kazan’s arms and yanked them back. Another tugged a gag between his teeth.
Kazan struggled.
Another guard hit him in the stomach.
He doubled over.
Hanan judged that Kazan would cause no more trouble. “You are accused of being followers of Yeshua, a false mashiach who spoke against the Temple and has caused riots here in Jerusalem. You are accused of inciting a man to disturb the worship of the living God today in the Temple. This man spoke against the Temple and repeatedly shouted the name of your false mashiach, Yeshua. You then aided him in his escape. All of this is clear violation of Torah.”
Hanan paused.
The fifteen men before him were sweating. The oldest, Yaakov called tsaddik, glared back at Hanan, his face strong with anger.
Hanan turned toward the guards. “I call the first witness, Shimon ben Levi.”
Shimon came forward.
“Your name and office?”
“My name is called Shimon ben Levi, and I am a Temple guard.”
Hanan smiled. Shimon was a man who loved the Temple. Not like those unreliable men who called themselves Sons of Righteous Priests. Hanan had given their leaders important work tonight in the Temple. “Shimon, swear an oath that you will bear no false witness, according to the commandment.”
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