by Angela Hunt
Who had done this? Months ago, Simeon’s wife had said that a certain Pharisee wanted to discredit Uncle and his heirs, but that sort of slander should not involve violence. If the Pharisees wanted to name a new high priest, they simply had to raise the issue in the Sanhedrin . . .
Understanding overcame my panic and asserted itself. All of Uncle’s heirs had been sleeping beneath this roof except for Aristobulus and Antigonus. The two eldest were missing . . . because they had instigated this action. They would return, probably at sunrise, to declare their victory.
I did not want to be present when Aristobulus claimed the high priest’s palace as his own, nor did I want my sons to be anywhere in the vicinity.
I hurried back into the chamber and pulled a tunic from my trunk. I dressed quickly, then grabbed my himation, cloaked my head, and slipped out a side door. I ran to a back door of Mother’s house and let myself in.
As I ran, I couldn’t help remembering the murderous plot that had eliminated Simon and his two eldest sons on the same night. The murderers had also searched for John Hyrcanus that night, but by HaShem’s grace they were unable to find him.
I would find Kissa, my mother, and my sons, and we would go into hiding. I did not know how far Aristobulus had cast his net of destruction, but I would not allow it to snag my sons.
We escaped the high priest’s house without being noticed, thanks to Kissa, who led us through a servants’ passage and out a gate that had been partially hidden behind vines and shrubs.
Mother refused to go with us at first, believing that Aristobulus would never harm anyone. Only when I insisted I needed her help with the boys could I persuade her to leave.
After making it past the walls of the high priest’s palace, we slipped down the streets of the Temple district, slinking through shadows while I tried to think of a safe place to hide. I then remembered my tutor, Josu Attis, who lived with his family near the Valley of the Cheesemakers.
Because I did not know exactly where the tutor lived, the five of us slept in a doorway until sunrise. The boys woke early and peppered me with questions: “Where is Father?” “Will we sleep here tonight?” “Can we go home soon?” “Can I have bread and honey?”
I tried to soothe them as best I could, but I had only gentle words to offer. True to their natures, worry clouded Hyrcanus’s eyes, while Aristobulus thought our frantic journey through the darkened city was quite the adventure. Happy to see his enthusiasm, I maintained that fiction and told the boys we were playing a game, the goal of which was to find a kindly scholar named Josu Attis.
“We will ask people for clues about where he lives,” I explained, holding tight to Aristobulus’s hand. “But we must not tell them who we are or why we want to find him.”
By the second hour of the day, we had found someone who directed us to the tutor’s home. We were tired and thirsty when we finally knocked on his door, and when he opened it I nearly collapsed into his arms. After hearing my story, he and his wife agreed to let us stay until we could learn what had happened to Jannaeus.
Within two days, everyone in the city had heard about the aftermath of John Hyrcanus’s death. Judah Aristobulus had left the reading of the will and gone immediately to take command of the Temple guard. He had the high priest’s house surrounded—his house now, by right—dragging his mother and three youngest brothers off to the Baris. The next day, as an assembly of Levites and members of the Sanhedrin watched in astonishment, Aristobulus sat in the high priest’s reception hall and proclaimed himself king, momentarily trading the high priest’s miter for a golden crown. He rewarded his brother’s loyalty by appointing Antigonus as commander of the Judean armies.
The new king’s final announcement was about a reward. One hundred talents would be given to anyone who could locate the two sons of Alexander Jannaeus. They had become lost in the confusion, Aristobulus explained, and he wanted to keep them safe at the Temple fortress.
“He would keep them imprisoned,” I whispered when Josu Attis gave me the dire news. “He wants to make sure they are not free to lead an uprising against them.”
Josu nodded. A current of fear stirred in his eyes, and I was sure he saw the same dark current in mine. “He has captured his opposition,” he said. “And you can be sure none of them will be freed so long as he sits on his throne.”
“HaShem be merciful,” I whispered, remembering how I had once considered John Hyrcanus my savior. Where was he now that I needed saving again? I could think of no one who would or could step forward to rescue my husband or my sons.
The streets of Jerusalem buzzed with the news of such astonishing developments, yet no one dared stand against Judah Aristobulus. He commanded an army of mercenaries, he controlled the Temple guards, and he occupied the high priest’s palace. He had also taken everything without spilling a single drop of blood.
Still, the people were not happy. Jerusalem had not been home to a king since Zedekiah, whose reign ended when Nebuchadnezzar carried the city’s inhabitants away to Babylon.
When I realized how thoroughly Judah Aristobulus had prepared and how long he had waited, I saw that Uncle had been more than a wise man; he had been a prophet. He knew his eldest sons would cause trouble for the younger ones, so he sent us to Galilee and kept the two youngest by his side. If we had remained in that area, out of Aristobulus’s sight, we might have spent many happy years in that region.
“How long?” I asked Josu. “How long do you think Aristobulus will keep Jannaeus in the Baris?”
My former tutor sat across from me with his little son on his knee. “Until he decides to kill him,” he replied, his voice sober. “Because as long as your husband lives, he is a threat. So are Absalom and Elias. And so are you and your boys, Salome, if you do anything to encourage support for any other Hasmonean heir. You would do well to live quietly, even obscurely, as long as Aristobulus is in power.”
“What if he remains in power for years?”
Josu shook his head slowly. “We will pray it will not be so. Because things will not go well for Judea with such a ruthless man as king. To think he is also the high priest . . .” He shuddered. “HaShem will not be mocked. And the righteous will not tolerate a usurper in the Temple.”
I sat in silence, studying my sleeping sons. Why had I ever allowed Jannaeus to name our second son after his brother? The name would forever taste like gall on my tongue.
“What do you think will happen?” I asked. “What should I do? My innocent sons are my most important concern. I need to know whether we should stay in Jerusalem or find some other place to live quietly.”
“I can tell you what will happen next,” Josu said, his eyes narrowing. “Aristobulus has been fortunate so far, but blood is always shed when power is forcefully seized. People are going to die. Some will draw their swords in defense of Alena, Hyrcanus’s choice to lead the nation. Others will draw their swords for Aristobulus, because he will promise riches and power in return for their support. Men will fight to the death, and the winner will rule Jerusalem and Judea. The loser will not be shown mercy.”
His somber eyes met mine. “Has history not taught us this? You know these truths from your studies; now you will know them from experience. Consider the kingdoms around us, and you will see that we have become like them.”
A ghost spider climbed the length of my spine as I realized how right my former tutor was. In the next few weeks, either Alena or Aristobulus would die, and all traces of the love that used to exist between them would vanish.
“A son plotting against his mother,” I said, looking at my innocent boys. “I can think of nothing more horrible.”
“I can.” Sadness filled Josu’s eyes. “Two sons plotting against their mother.”
Josu and his wife helped me find a small house where I could live with what remained of my family. The place was near Josu’s home, and every day Kissa and I helped his wife with her daily work—grinding grain, drawing water, mending clothing. I had not done such me
nial labor since childhood, but Kissa was a patient teacher.
Because we needed an income, Josu suggested that I work as a copyist. “I know people who need copies of important documents,” he said. “I receive so many requests that I cannot possibly handle the work by myself. But I could take these jobs and pass the work to you. You have a fine hand and could probably earn a living as a scribe. No one needs to know that a woman is doing the copying.”
“Kissa also writes well,” I said, suddenly grateful that I had taught my handmaid how to read and write. “With her help, surely we could make enough to meet our needs.”
So it was settled. Josu began to bring us documents, some in Greek, some in Hebrew, and a few in Aramaic. While my mother oversaw the care of the children, Kissa and I procured the supplies we needed, set up desks in the front of the house, and began our work as copyists. I determined to follow Josu’s advice and live quietly, not revealing my identity or my association with John Hyrcanus’s family. I would not even go out in public unless absolutely necessary.
Every morning Kissa visited the marketplace to buy food, supplies, and hear the latest gossip. Every day she came back with new reports of skirmishes, riots in the Temple courtyard, and protests outside the high priest’s palace.
Three weeks after Aristobulus’s violent takeover, she came into the house and slammed the door behind her, her face streaked with tears and her breath coming in quick gasps.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, then looked pointedly at the boys. Realizing she would not speak in front of them, I gestured for her to step outside with me.
Once we were alone in the courtyard, she took my arm. “Alena,” she said, her eyes filling again. “She is dead.”
“Did he . . . did Aristobulus execute her?”
“Indirectly,” Kissa said. “Since that first night, Alena was not allowed to leave her room. Aristobulus gave orders that she be given no food and only a cupful of water a day. She died yesterday.”
I turned away, the news too much to bear. How could any son allow his mother to suffer such an agonizing death? Alena had been the kindest, most capable and sophisticated woman in Jerusalem. I had never seen her do anything cruel, and if the situation were reversed, she would have treated her sons with kindness and mercy.
“So the resistance is over. Aristobulus is king, and no one remains to challenge him. Judea has a king.”
“And a high priest,” Kissa added.
I turned back to her. “What of Antigonus?”
“He commands the army. He has already won his brother’s approval by defeating the men who fought to free Alena from the fortress. More than forty died in that effort.”
I sank onto a nearby bench. “And my husband? Is Aristobulus feeding Jannaeus?”
Kissa sat by my side. “They say that Jannaeus, Absalom, and Elias are alive and well as they can be in that place. Aristobulus probably knows the people would turn on him if he starved them as well.”
“Why didn’t he worry about public opinion concerning Alena?”
Kissa shook her head. “I don’t know, mistress. Perhaps . . . perhaps he dared starve her because she was a woman and not likely to win the approval of the religious leaders. I heard one man say that Aristobulus won his position just as John Hyrcanus won his—at the cost of his mother’s life.”
I had nearly forgotten the tragedy that overshadowed Uncle’s early days as high priest. Now, however, the memory of it resurfaced with fearful clarity. Uncle had abandoned his mother to a tyrant in order to claim his place as the high priest and leader of Judea. But Uncle had to leave his mother, because an army was threatening Jerusalem. The Holy City was not under any threat when Aristobulus abandoned Alena.
Bending beneath a load of grief, I folded my hands and stared at my interlocked fingers. What would Uncle say if he could see his family now? His beloved wife dead and his sons—three locked up in the Temple fortress, two rising to power after a bloodbath. He had suspected something like this would happen, so why hadn’t he done something to prevent it?
A sudden thought occurred to me. “What about Salina Alexandra?” I asked, turning to Kissa. “Does she support her husband in this, or did she protest?”
“No one knows,” Kissa answered. “Although when has a woman been able to stop a man from doing what he wants to do? She is queen now and living with Aristobulus at your uncle’s palace—probably sleeping in Alena’s bedchamber. But she has not been seen in public. Perhaps she is ashamed of what her husband has done.”
“Or perhaps she is having someone make her a few more richly appointed tunics,” I countered, dismayed to hear sarcasm in my voice. “Could this be what she wanted?”
Kissa stared at a stunted olive tree in our garden. “Perhaps. After all, she may be the mother of the next Hasmonean king.”
“Or she may be dead within the year. With Aristobulus sitting on the throne, who can say? Still, Salina is a cousin, and we have been friendly in the past. I should write her.”
“Careful.” Kissa’s eyes widened. “Josu counseled you to remain hidden. If Aristobulus knows you and your children are still in Jerusalem . . .”
“I do not think Salina would betray me,” I said, standing. “And if she does, we will set out at once for Galilee. I have friends there, and a house.”
Kissa lifted a brow. “You had better pray we can get away in time.”
Dear cousin and friend, greetings!
I hope this letter finds you well. I am sending it with my trusted handmaid in the hope you will receive her in my name. How distressed I was to hear of Alena’s tragic death! My heart breaks to think of the anguish wrought by your husband, my kinsman. I do not blame you for the outcome, for the power of life and death lies in HaShem’s hands, but I am sure you must ask yourself if there was anything you could have done to save her.
I know I am taking a liberty in writing you, but necessity demands that I extend these words with the courage of Esther. I have two sons, young boys I love more than life, and I must have the truth from you.
Are we safe, or should my sons and I take measures to safeguard our lives? We remain in Jerusalem, but if the king’s attention should turn toward us, or if his face should cloud in disfavor when our names are mentioned, I would take my sons and flee the Holy City. Please, I do not count it a small thing to ask a wife to circumvent her husband, yet I know you would not do anything to destroy an innocent woman and her precious children.
Thank you. Please send word via my handmaid, or if that is not possible, please seek out the tutor in the Valley of the Cheesemakers. He will know how to reach us.
I remain forever in your service,
Salome Alexandra
Slipping into the high priest’s palace through a servants’ entrance, Kissa found my kinswoman sitting in the garden. When she told me she had been able to place the letter into Salina’s own hand, I thanked HaShem for giving my handmaid knowledge of every inch of that grand house.
“I waited while she read it,” Kissa told me, breathless from her dash through the twisting streets. “And though I expected an answer, she rolled up the scroll and said she could not reply yet, but I should tell you to remain quiet and safe. She said she would make things right when she could, but she would have to be careful. Then she bade me leave before I was spotted.”
“What does she intend to do?”
Kissa shook her head. “I don’t know. The queen may not know. But when her mind is settled on a plan, she will act in your favor, I am sure of it. She looked quite distressed as she read your letter.”
Since I had no idea what Salina might do, I had no choice but to continue living in quiet obscurity. Every night my sons and I prayed for Jannaeus, that he would remain healthy and strong despite the privations of his makeshift prison. Privately I prayed that public opinion would remain firmly set against Aristobulus, who had murdered his innocent mother and imprisoned his brothers.
I also prayed for Salina, that HaShem w
ould give my quiet, beautiful cousin the courage to do whatever was necessary to free my husband and guarantee my sons’ safety.
Chapter Thirty
Kissa
I paused at a fabric booth and ran my fingers over a length of silk.
“Very fine, very expensive,” said the woman behind the counter. “From the East.”
I quickly withdrew my hand. “I was just looking for my mistress.”
“Ah.” The woman’s face brightened. “Your mistress is a fine lady?”
“She is . . . from a good family.”
“She can afford such things?”
I smiled, uncertain of how I should answer. Shelamzion had been a wealthy woman, but now we barely earned enough to buy food and supplies for our work as copyists.
I lifted my chin. “My mistress has no need for silks, but you have lovely fabrics. Good day.”
I lowered my head as I walked toward the merchants who sold fruits and vegetables. The rising sun had swallowed up the strong wind that rattled our windows last night. The boys had been frightened, and my mistress was anxious too, though she tried not to show it. Every rattle of the window or door quickened our pulses. Was it the wind, or was it someone who wanted to eliminate any challenge to Aristobulus?
Months had passed since I had delivered her letter to Salina Alexandra, and we had heard nothing from the high priest’s wife. I was beginning to think that Salina had decided to do nothing, yet every night Shelamzion prayed that deliverance would soon come from Salina’s hand.
I stopped by a booth and fingered the leather on the counter. The material was far softer than the leather we had been writing on, and I wondered how it would hold the ink.
The merchant stepped forward and waggled his brows. “Do you like?”