Several of the guards picked up rocks the size of a man’s head and dropped them over the side. One of them signaled to Hanan. Hanan turned and pointed to the next man to die.
Yaakov wanted to retch. No! This was all wrong! How could one enter the presence of HaShem with a curse on his lips? And yet the men would not listen to him. One by one, they would die and he could do nothing, only watch them die in torment. In rage.
The guards came for the next prisoner. Yaakov stepped in front of the man and faced the guards. “Bless you, my sons. And blessed be your mothers who bore you and your fathers. Blessed be your sons and daughters to the fourth generation.”
One of them slapped him and pushed him aside. They seized the beard of the next man and yanked him forward, bent double.
“Dogs!” the man shouted. “Pigs! Gentiles!”
One of the guards hit him in the face. They forced him back to the edge. He too soiled himself. “I curse your—”
They pushed him back.
His scream filled Yaakov’s heart with grief. His men would not listen to him. They would die with a curse in their hearts. No, he could not allow it.
The men around the pit threw in more stones to ensure that the second man was dead.
Hanan pointed to the third man who was to die. The guards came for him.
Yaakov walked to the edge of the pit and turned around, his back to the abyss. If his men would not listen, they must see.
The guards fought with the third man. He screamed, shouted, kicked, writhed, spit, snapped at them. They dragged him to the limestone shelf and stopped. Yaakov blocked their way. They could not kill their prisoner without pushing Yaakov over first, and this they dared not do.
“Come away, old man!” said one guard. “Your turn will come soon enough.”
Yaakov’s lips felt like iron. He could not say the words. He must say the words. “Bless you, my son. May your sons dwell in the peace of HaShem for a hundred generations.”
The guard looked at Yaakov and fear glinted in his eyes.
The other guard glared at him. “Enough of your tricks, old fox! Step away, or throw yourself in!” He stepped forward and spit in Yaakov’s face.
Rage filled Yaakov. This was foolishness. His men were right. A man could not find it in his heart to love his enemies.
But he could find it in his mind. He could say the words.
Tears sprang onto Yaakov’s cheeks. “Bless ...” Anger forced the words back. Righteous anger burned in his heart. But even righteous anger could be wrong, if it prevented a greater right. Yaakov tried again. “Bless you, my ... my son. HaShem, who sees all, loves you with an everlasting love. May he bless you and keep you and ... bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.”
Something broke in Yaakov’s heart. He felt a gush of hot joy in his soul.
And love.
Yes, he did love this fool, who was ordered by an evil man to carry out judgment against law-breakers. This man was wrong, but he was a man, the son of a mother and father. Loved by HaShem.
And now by Yaakov.
Yaakov felt a smile on his lips. “Bless you, my son.”
The guard stood there frozen, disbelief in his eyes. He turned his face away, but not before Yaakov read his shame.
Hanan ben Hanan strode up to them. “Push the old man in, fools! We have little time.”
The two guards refused to look at Hanan.
“Push him!” Hanan shouted. His eyes glowed red in the circle of torches.
The men shook their heads.
Yaakov closed his eyes. “Blessed are you, Lord our God, who created the heavens and the earth and ...” Yaakov’s throat felt that it would strangle. “... and the House of Hanan.” His voice became stronger. “I ... I bless you, Hanan ben Hanan. I bless your house and your sons and daughters, your servants, your animals.”
The words came like a mighty river now. “Abba, forgive him. Grant him grace and peace and—”
Two hands pressed against Yaakov’s chest and pushed hard. Yaakov felt himself falling, weightless, unbound from the earth.
Joy unspeakable filled his soul.
Hanan ben Hanan
* * *
Hanan watched Yaakov fall. His head smashed against a rock and his neck broke. His body lay still. Hanan signaled the guards to throw in more stones.
Nobody moved.
Rage flared in his heart. “Throw in the stones!”
They backed away from the pit on all sides.
“Fools!” Hanan went around and lifted a large stone. He carried it to the edge and dropped it in. It crushed Yaakov’s rib cage. Hanan spit into the pit and stalked away. He had finally completed what Father had begun, many years ago. The last of the messianics were dead. He had won.
Rage smote his heart like a fist.
Baruch
* * *
Baruch stuffed the sleeve of his tunic into his mouth to keep from crying out. Yaakov the tsaddik was dead. Baruch had prayed to HaShem, had begged for a miracle. And he had seen one, but it was not the miracle he asked for.
Yaakov, who hated the House of Hanan, had blessed it. Had died with joy on his face.
With love for his enemy.
Torchlight flickered on the faces of the men around the pit. The guards now brought the next man, backing him up to the edge of the pit. They moved like dead men, their joints stiff, their movements sluggish. The condemned man laughed for joy and blessed them.
They pushed him in.
Screams filled the whole Hinnom Valley.
Baruch shut his eyes against the horror. It happened sometimes that a man did not die when pushed into a stoning pit.
Several guards around the edges hurried forward and dropped in large stones.
The screaming ended.
Baruch breathed again.
Beside him, Hana wept silently.
Gamaliel’s labored breathing rasped in Baruch’s ears.
The next man to die said a prayer to HaShem and did not soil himself and died with peace on his face.
The next blessed those who killed him.
One by one, the men of The Way went to their deaths. Baruch wept to see it. These were good men. Elders in the synagogue. Men who had prayed with him, cast out demons with him, healed the sick with him, taught him the way of Rabban Yeshua.
And yet they were ordinary men, men who on an ordinary day feared death and hated injustice and raged at the House of Hanan. They were not the sort of men who would die with joy in their hearts.
But this was no ordinary day. Baruch had seen a miracle. No, it was not the miracle he would have chosen, but perhaps it was a greater one.
He buried his face in the dirt and prayed, but not for the House of Hanan.
Chapter Forty-Four
Rivka
* * *
WHEN DAYLIGHT BROKE, ARI LAY near death. Rivka had done her best, but he had lost much blood. Also, it was impossible to sterilize his whole body. His entire back and chest was one raw mass of wounds. If an infection set in ...
Footsteps outside. Brother Eleazar and Brother Yoseph burst in with a short little old man. Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai. The old rabbi knelt beside Ari. “Will he live, my daughter?”
Rivka shook her head. “I don’t know. Where’s Gamaliel?”
“He took us to the stoning pits and we saw the evidence with our own eyes. It is an outrage. When the Sanhedrin learns of this, Hanan ben Hanan will not last one hour longer as high priest.”
Rivka put a hand on Ari’s hot forehead. “I need Baruch.”
Rabbi Yohanan sighed. “The young man Baruch is in hiding outside the city. Gamaliel and several of his friends are protecting him, but he may not enter the city. It would endanger them all, so long as Hanan is high priest.”
“When are you going to talk to Agrippa?” Rivka said. “He’ll depose Hanan.”
“I have sent messages to all the Pharisees on the Sanhedrin. When they see with their eyes, then we will go to Agrippa.”
“My daughter, patience is not your strongest point.”
“My husband is on the edge of death and you’re lecturing me about patience?”
Rabbi Yohanan shook his head. “Ari the Kazan will live or he will die. His life is in the hands of HaShem. Not mine. Not yours. Until Mashiach comes, there will be evils in this world. The wise man battles evil, but he recognizes that evil sometimes wins. The universe is not unmade because of a little evil—or of much. But on the day that HaShem ceases to be King of the Universe, on that day it will be unmade. When you have learned that, you will be wise.” He turned and went out.
Rivka followed him out and put her hands on her hips, glaring after him. Fine, so I’m a dummy. Will it hurt for you to hurry things up a little bit? Because if you won’t, I will.
Rivka checked Ari. No change in his condition. If she waited for the Sanhedrin, she’d be waiting a long time. Rabbi Yohanan was wrong. The whole system was stacked against her—had been stacked against her ever since she got here. Because she was a woman. She had learned a long time ago how to deal with that kind of attitude.
If she wanted something, she had to get angry and make it happen.
Now.
Berenike
* * *
Berenike watched the two dozen rabbis walk out through the courtyard into the square. She spun on Agrippa. “What do you mean, you do not have to do anything? Hanan murdered those men! What more proof do you want?”
Agrippa frowned. “Hanan was a bit hasty, but he did pay me a rather large gift before I appointed him and I think it only fair to hear his side of the story. These Pharisees are furious today, but how will they be in two weeks? I will not change the high priest so soon, just on account of a few dead men of no consequence.”
Berenike stamped her foot. He could be infuriating when he put his back against the wall. A typical Herod. If he deposed Hanan, it would be an admission that he had made a mistake in appointing him. So he would drag his feet. For weeks. Months.
“You idiot,” she said. “Do you wish to hear what the seer woman told me while you were talking to the rabbis?”
“No.”
“She said that you would refuse.”
“I told you I do not wish to—”
“I am telling you anyway. The seer woman says that you will be stubborn until Governor Albinus sends a letter ordering you to depose him.”
“Who is this Albinus? I have not heard of him. When this Albinus appears on my doorstep, I will believe the seer woman. She is unreliable.”
“You could depose Hanan now—make a fool of the seer woman.”
“I refuse to be manipulated by a ...” Agrippa curled his lips in distaste.
“A woman? She is not just any woman. She hears from HaShem.”
“I was not speaking of the seer woman.”
Of ... me then. The realization stabbed through Berenike. Agrippa would not take her good counsel because she was a woman. Because of his honor. Which meant that all her machinations over the years were nothing. She had lost the great game before she ever entered it—solely because she was a woman. She was a fool. She had imagined all her life that somehow, by playing the game well enough, she could overcome that accident of birth that made her a woman and Agrippa a man.
She was wrong. At last she knew this truth, and it was bitter as wormwood, black as rage. Agrippa could have chosen to be a great man like Papa, but he preferred to wallow in his own incompetence rather than accept help from her, a mere woman.
Berenike turned and strode to the door. “The seer woman asked me to tell you one more thing.”
“I do not wish to hear it.”
Berenike walked out, knowing that he would later demand to know the seer woman’s words. Would beg for them.
And she would never tell him.
The world will remember Agrippa as a weak man who could have done right but chose to do nothing.
It was, Berenike thought, exactly right.
Rivka
* * *
Late that night, Rivka could not sleep. A fever raged in Ari’s system. Rachel and Dov slept in another part of the palace. Yoseph—yes, the same Yoseph she had hated and feared, the man who would someday be Josephus—assured her that she and Hana would be quite safe in the palace. His father would never give up Ari the Kazan to Hanan ben Hanan.
Baruch was somewhere outside the city, hidden in a cave, closely guarded by Gamaliel and Brother Eleazar. Still under a death sentence, Baruch could not enter the city. Nor could Ari be moved.
Rivka dug her nails into her hands. Ari was dying and there was not one single blessed thing she could do about it. She paced back and forth beside Ari’s bed. He needed antibiotics. Now.
It was all so wrong! Senseless. Hanan had no reason to hate Ari or the others. No reason but that they got in his way, they dishonored him, they threatened his Temple somehow. The guy was ... evil. Josephus had called him a bold and insolent man. Well, old Joe sure wasn’t going to get convicted of exaggeration, was he?
A step at the door.
Rivka whirled around, her heart racing. “Oh! Hana, you scared me!”
Hana hurried to Ari’s bed and felt his forehead. “The fever is worse.”
Rivka’s eyes blurred with tears. “He has an infection.”
“I do not understand this word infection.”
“It’s caused by ... little bugs. Very tiny. They’re in his bloodstream and his body is fighting them. I need antibiotics—more little bugs that fight the bad ones.”
Hana’s face was serene. “He is in the hands of HaShem.”
Rivka slumped to the floor. “Hana, I don’t want him to be in the hands of HaShem. I want him to be—”
She stopped, shocked. How could she have said that? It was like she was ... fighting HaShem to make him do the right thing.
Rivka put her face in her hands, weary beyond words, sick to death of fighting.
Ever since she came here, she had been fighting, fighting, fighting. Fighting an unfair patriarchal system that shamed her for being a woman. Fighting a superstitious people who saw evil spirits under every rock and called her a witch woman. Fighting to make HaShem get his act together.
Rivka felt shamed to her core. What was it Saul had told her? You must not run faster than HaShem will lead you. Was that why she felt so exhausted all the time? Because she was trying to outrun HaShem?
She was a good fighter. Adaptable. Quick. Persistent. But when was the last time she asked HaShem for advice, rather than dishing it out to him?
She had been so sure she knew what needed doing, but ... the truth was, she didn’t know diddly. Everything she thought she knew had turned out to be just a little wrong. Not a lot, but enough to put a wrench in things. She saw the future, but it was distorted, like a reflection in a brass mirror. Her knowledge wasn’t a blessing, it was a curse, just like Berenike’s beauty.
She saw the future, but she couldn’t change it.
Evil was coming. Unthinkable evil. Perpetrated by ordinary people.
People who thought they had to do wrong things to make things right. People like Berenike, who would poison her own body to protect her family honor. People like Hanan ben Hanan, who would kill “renegades” to save his stupid Temple. People like the Christians of coming centuries, who would torture Jews to make them confess Christ.
And maybe ... people like the seer woman, who would manipulate others to do what she wanted, who would try to change the unchangeable, who would even fight HaShem, because she was so bent on mending the shards of this shivered, shattered world?
Rivka trembled. Something shifted deep at the foundation of her soul.
Arms encircled her. “Rivkaleh.” Hana’s voice, soft and gentle. “The safest place for Brother Ari is in the hands of HaShem. Worse things may happen to a man than to die.”
“I’m sorry, Hana, I’ve been so horrible. I’m wrong. I do want Ari to be in HaS
hem’s hands. It’s just that ... I want him to live. I want Racheleh to have a father.”
“Then pray for him, Sister Rivka. And listen to the voice of HaShem.” Hana kissed her forehead softly. “Now I must find a quiet place to speak with HaShem. Perhaps he will speak to me.” Her footsteps padded out of the room.
Rivka closed her eyes and wept.
Rivka
* * *
Hours later, Rivka woke up. Her body felt tight, twisted like a pretzel. Hana was still gone. Rivka felt cold and worn out. Painfully, she pushed herself off the floor and checked Ari.
His fever had gone higher.
Rivka went outside to look at the night sky. Shabbat morning would soon be dawning. The children would be up. Rachel would cry for Ari, and Dov for Baruch. Then both of them would go outside and forget their sorrows in a game of chase.
Rivka turned to come back in, but torchlight in the street caught her eye. Three men in the uniform of Temple guards stood outside the gate of the palace. They spoke to the guard, who let them pass. A woman in a veil followed them in.
Rivka saw by her walk that the woman was Hana. The short guard was Gamaliel, while the enormous one was Brother Eleazar. And the guard in the middle was ...
Baruch.
Rivka ran down the steps toward them. Joy flooded her heart.
Baruch smiled. “Sister Rivkaleh.”
Forgetting propriety, Rivka ran into his arms and hugged him. “Brother Baruch, I’m so glad you’ve come.”
“Evidently. Please take me to Brother Ari.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Ari
* * *
ARI THE KAZAN STOOD BEFORE the judgment seat of HaShem. Heat unimaginable radiated from the throne of the living God, the King of Kings, the Eternal One, blessed be he. Sweat poured from Ari’s face, but still he approached the throne.
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