Primo's ugly face twisted in a scowl. "Where will you be, master?"
"I am going to Judea with Ulrika."
"Master! To leave the caravan?" The old soldier was nearly speechless with shock. Truly his master was under a witch's spell.
"You have your orders."
"Let me accompany you to Judea," Primo said, thinking quickly. What had he just overheard the girl say? They were going to rescue something precious? And two Jews named Rachel and Jacob? An act of treason without a doubt! Suddenly Primo was gripped with an intense desire to defend his master against Caesar's retribution. Even if it meant committing treason himself.
"You will need protection, master. Revolution is fomenting in the province of Judea, and the Roman army has increased its presence there. It will behoove you to have a veteran of the legions in your party, and I am not without connections still."
"I need a man I can trust to accompany the caravan."
Timonides stepped forward and said, "I will take the caravan to Rome, master. It is the least I can do for the pain and grief I have caused you."
Sebastianus thought for a moment, then said, "Very well. We must make haste now, for the High Priest will soon be here. Primo, ready your soldiers. There will be no fight, but we must be prepared. Timonides, as soon as this business is done, I want you to take my horse and ride to the caravan. See to the final preparations for departure. We have no time to lose."
Ulrika went to Miriam and said, "Men are coming from the temple of Marduk, but do not be afraid. Sebastianus will have a few words with the High Priest and then we have to send all these people home."
She paused to look into Miriam's plump face, no longer filled with despair but at peace. "I do not presume, honored mother, to tell you how to conduct your faith. But when I sent you here, I did not foresee the consequences of my actions. In the privacy of your home, spread word about Venerable Judah to friends and family, and always remember him, for that is what he asked of me."
AFTER GIVING ORDERS TO his second in command, Primo hurried back to his tent, where the secretary had been waiting impatiently. "I suggest you leave at once," Primo said. "The temple guard is coming and they might mistake you for one of those out there."
The Babylonian raised his big nose and said, "You saw the armed guards who accompany me everywhere I go. A necessary precaution in my line of work, as I carry important documents, and sometimes money. They will ride ahead of me and identify me to the priests. I am known to all of them, as I enjoy a wide reputation in the city. They will let me pass unmolested. Have you anything to add to your missive before I take my leave?"
Ignoring the man's disdain, Primo dictated an addendum to his report: "A new development, esteemed Quintus. So severely is my master held in thrall by the witch that we depart at once for Judea to rescue a treasure belonging to the enemies of Rome. This is not treason, my lord, for my master is hypnotized by the witch and knows not his own actions."
The Roman communications network was a swift and efficient system, with riders speeding along roads for which Roman engineers were so famous. The riders took fast, strong horses and galloped from outpost to outpost, in a vast relay race, bearing news, dispatches, and letters for important citizens from the emperor on down. Primo knew his report would reach Nero long before Sebastianus did. The emperor and his guards would be waiting for him and, with great luck and the power of Mithras, arrest the girl instead of his master.
As for Primo himself, he had one last important mission to carry out. In a final effort to rescue his master from committing treason, Primo would see to it that he found the insurgents Rachel and Jacob first, and kill them before Sebastianus could reach them.
"MASTER!" CAME A SHOUT IN THE NIGHT. Sebastianus and Ulrika turned to see Timonides running toward them, his white robes ghostly in the moonlight. He flung an arm behind himself. "Master! The priests and guards are coming. Oh master, there are hundreds of them!"
Sebastianus climbed onto the highest pile of blocks that had fallen from Daniel's Castle long ago, and from this vantage point saw an astonishing sight: a line of blazing torches winding along the highway, like a river of molten lava. Hundreds of guards indeed, Sebastianus thought in alarm. All on horseback. All carrying javelins and spears.
They come for a slaughter.
Returning to Ulrika and Timonides, he said quietly, "I underestimated the High Priest. I believe he is coming not to negotiate but to make an example of these people for the citizens of Babylon. We have to keep everyone calm. Keep them back here behind the ruins. Primo and I will stand and fight. Perhaps the High Priest will be satisfied with a few."
Ulrika took her place at Sebastianus's side as they watched the river of fire advance upon the ruins. Behind her, she heard the murmured prayers of hundreds of terrified people. Primo stood at the ready with his soldiers, weapons drawn. The wind whistled across the desert.
So many lives at stake! There had to be a way to save all these people.
Ulrika turned her face into the wind, closed her eyes, and drew in a slow breath. Reaching out, she placed her hand on the cold stone wall of the "castle" and she thought: If there is indeed a tomb under these ruins, is it large enough to hold all these people? If not all, then at least the children, the sick. And if it is a tomb, then perhaps it would be taboo for the temple guards to walk here, like the shaman's cave in the Rhineland which the German warriors avoided.
Drawing in a purifying breath, Ulrika closed her eyes and envisioned her inner soul flame. Spirit of this place, she silently prayed, I beseech thee for thy help.
She waited for a vision. When none came, she increased her concentration, focusing on the quivering soul flame, and with her free hand took hold of the scallop shell on her breast. Once again, she sent out her prayer.
But nothing happened, and panic began to steal over her. Her mouth ran dry and her palms grew moist. She had used the meditation successfully to the benefit of others—but only for individuals. Now that there were hundreds of souls in danger, would she have the power to use her gift? Or did it only work for one person at a time?
Realizing that her heart was racing—and that the temple guards were drawing closer—she redoubled her efforts. If this truly was the burial place of the Prophet Daniel, then it was sacred ground. This was her calling. This was what she was born to do. She must not panic. She must not let fear overcome her inner powers.
One by one she closed down her senses—turning deaf to the desperate prayers of hundreds of people, turning blind to the glowing torches coming up from the desert, turning numb to the feel of the wind and the cold on her skin, until all she was aware of was the rock beneath her fingers.
Again she opened herself, set her soul free, and begged the sacred being of this place to give her a sign.
Finally her spirit moved—through the solid rock and ancient dust, and across the timeless years—until she felt it touch something.
Ulrika frowned. Something was there, just in front of her and yet, unlike with previous visions, she saw only darkness. Why was her inner sight being blocked?
No, not blocked. The darkness itself is the vision.
Now she smelled a stale mustiness, felt rubble and gravel beneath her sandals, saw long corridors with dim lights at the end, heard the clanking of armor and the tramping of feet. And knowledge flooded her mind ...
"Sebastianus!" she cried suddenly. "Before this was a tomb, it was a military outpost!"
He turned to her. "What?"
"This citadel was built hundreds of years ago as a primary defense against invaders from the south," she said, as knowledge filled her head. "The king sent his soldiers here to stage surprise attacks. Sebastianus, there are tunnels beneath us, and they lead to an oasis a mile from here, to the north! If I can just find—"Placing her other hand on the rough stones, she felt along the cold walls of the ruins. Her hand slipped inside a crevice. "Here!"
Sebastianus called for Primo and several strong men with spears. Working in torch
light, while lookouts kept an eye on the approaching guards from the city, they rammed the shafts into the crevice and, pulling back with all their might, levered one of the stone blocks so that it slipped away.
A rush of stale air blew in their faces. Taking a torch, Sebastianus slipped it in and looked around. Stone steps, dusty and littered with pebbles, descended into darkness.
"It can be done," he said, "but we must hurry. If they catch us at this, they will pursue. Primo, you will go down first and light the way."
"But you send us into a tomb, master!"
"Ulrika says the tunnel is clear."
Primo scowled. He would rather stand and fight like a man than die like a rat trapped in a sewer. But he would obey.
"The children and the elderly and the lame are to be carried," Sebastianus said. "Anyone who will hinder our escape. Primo, take several torches and place them along the way as you go, for those behind you."
Primo and a few soldiers led the way, moving obstructions, setting torches, escorting those who came behind. The rest went down in a hasty but orderly fashion, with men carrying children, strong women supporting the elders. Sebastianus sent soldiers down at intervals, with more torches. Nobody spoke. But Ulrika saw the terror on their faces as they looked into the abyss. "Do not fear," she said, "but hurry. And do not look back. Follow the person in front of you."
Down they went, one by one, the strong assisting the weak, lowering stretchers and litters into the ground, helping those on crutches and leading the blind. They carried torches and oil lamps. They found the ceiling high enough for them to stand upright and still have room above their heads—clearance enough, Ulrika thought, for the helmets of the king's soldiers long ago.
Timonides kept watch on the highway. The priests and mounted guards were coming dangerously near. "No more torches," he murmured to Sebastianus, "or they will see."
When a child began to wail, his mother covered its mouth with her hand and plunged down the stone steps.
"They are nearly upon us," Timonides said, joining Ulrika and Sebastianus at the tunnel's entrance. "We must hurry."
Two men bearing a child on a stretcher slipped and dropped the litter. Sebastianus quickly retrieved the child and handed him to one of the men, saying, "Hurry! You must run now!"
Finally, they were all down, but the palm trees glowed with light from the arriving guards. War horses nickered, armor and weaponry clanked menacingly. "Go down, old friend," Sebastianus whispered to Timonides. "Hurry! They are here!"
Timonides descended into the tunnel.
"Now you, Ulrika. Watch for those who have fallen behind. Help them move along."
She went in and then turned to find Sebastianus, not descending the steps behind her but outside, shifting the stone into place.
"Sebastianus!" she cried, reaching for him.
"There is no other way to seal this entrance. I will meet you at the caravan. Do not worry. I will be all right. I love you, Ulrika."
"Sebastianus!"
39
I
DO WISH YOU WOULD come with us, Rachel dear," the shepherd's wife said. They were the last family to leave the oasis, having decided to take their small flock of sheep to Jericho, where they believed they would be safe from impending war.
With the increasing presence of Roman military in the past weeks, there was no longer any doubt that fighting was going to break out.
"Thank you, Mina," Rachel said, "but I will stay."
As Mina picked up a stray lamb and held it to her ample bosom, she said, "We will miss you. We so enjoyed your stories. Everyone did. What a delight you were to travelers who rested here. I believe you so captivated them that they stayed longer than they normally would have."
Rachel had enjoyed telling stories to the people who lived at the oasis, as she had told them to a girl named Ulrika years ago. Rachel spun inspirational tales of faith and heroism to an attentive audience of shepherds, date farmers, wheelwrights, and travelers who rested at the oasis.
"You shouldn't be alone," Mina said, as her husband gestured impatiently to her. They needed to reach Jericho by nightfall. "Now that Almah is gone, God rest her."
"I will be all right," Rachel said. "This war will pass and people will come back to the oasis. Go in peace."
PRIMO SQUINTED UP AT the sky and saw, over the stark Judean cliffs, vultures circling.
She is hiding in there. The woman named Rachel.
He said nothing to his companions, who were surveying the deserted oasis where, just days ago, several families had lived. Primo had decided that in order to save his master from committing treason by rescuing the widow of an executed criminal, he needed to find her first. When he did, he would kill her, and tell no one. And they could continue on to Rome with Sebastianus in the clear.
"Rachel and I came here once a week to fetch water and to bathe," Ulrika said, as she looked at the pond that was fed fresh water from an artesian spring. Its surface reflected the surrounding palm and olive trees, and the clear blue sky. "We would visit with the people here, and get the latest news from travelers passing by." She traipsed over the dead grass where tents had been staked. "They don't appear to have been gone long."
"They left in a hurry," Sebastianus observed, suspecting the reason why. Roman troops had been marching through the valley for weeks, to take residence at the nearby hilltop garrison at Masada. "Do you suppose Rachel went with them?"
Keeping his eye on the vultures, and determining the landmarks over which they circled, Primo said, "My men and I will search the area. Maybe she is simply hiding."
He reined in his horse and steered it toward craggy cliffs broken into thousands of wadis, canyons, gorges, and defiles. As his eyes scanned the afternoon landscape, he thought about the strange twists and turns of fate. His master should be on a ship bound for Rome at the moment, not venturing deep into a politically volatile region on a treasonous quest! Primo knew now that they had not come to rescue a husband and wife, simply the wife.
They had left Babylon in haste, before the High Priest could change his mind and decide to make martyrs of Judah's followers. While the Gallus caravan had continued westward along the main trade route under the care of Timonides, Sebastianus and Ulrika had followed a southerly road with Primo, six soldiers, and a handful of slaves. The men rode horses while Ulrika rode a camel that had been fitted with a padded saddle for her comfort. They had traveled swiftly and constantly, stopping only to eat and rest, in a hurry to reach Judea before revolt broke out.
Looking up at the vultures, Primo noted which way their scrawny necks swiveled, the specific spot they seemed to be eyeing. He guided his mare into a rocky defile. Silence hung heavy in these narrow canyons, the only sound being the sharp clip-clop of his horse's hooves. As he inspected a series of small limestone caves, he heard a sound—pebbles avalanching down a rocky incline, as if someone had slipped. Dismounting, he continued on foot into the narrow wadi that grew so tight he had to go in sideways. Steep rocky walls blocked out the sunlight so that the way was dark with just a wedge of blue sky overhead. Primo's sturdy hobnailed sandals crunched over the small rocks littering the canyon floor. He paused to listen, his soldier's instinct telling him that something alive was hiding nearby—a large animal or a person—watching, holding its breath, ready to spring.
He stepped carefully, inspecting every crack and crevice in the canyon walls. When he took another step, he heard a gasp, and another cascade of pebbles. He looked into a crevasse and saw a dark shape huddled there.
Primo smiled. He had found Rachel.
"WILL YOU BE ABLE to find the grave?" Sebastianus asked. "After all, it's been nine years."
Removing the blue veil from her head and settling it around her shoulders, Ulrika turned in a slow circle as she tried to recall landmarks from her brief stay here. The dun-colored landscape looked unforgiving and lifeless. Already, the spring flowers had withered and dried up. In the distance, she saw the pale blue ribbon of water that was the sea
of salt into which the River Jordan emptied. "I will find it," she said.
Sebastianus scanned the desolate landscape, the flat valley and steep cliffs dotted with caves, and then brought his eyes back to his wife. Beautiful, strong, determined. How he loved and admired her! How she had used her spiritual gift at Daniel's Castle to save all those people.
After everyone had gotten down safely in the tunnels Ulrika had discovered, Sebastianus had pushed the stone back into place and then he had gone to confront the High Priest and explain that the citizens had dispersed and wished in no way to offend Marduk. The High Priest had watched Sebastianus with a keen eye and had asked but one question, "Do you intend to stay long in Babylon?"
"I leave for Rome in the morning."
The High Priest had swept his eyes over the scene, with its unoccupied tents, scattered bits of food, sputtering oil lamps—evidence of the recent and hasty departure of a large crowd. "Marduk watches over all," he said. "He hopes his people will return to the temple and the beneficence of his supreme power. Safe traveling, Sebastianus Gallus."
To Sebastianus's amazement, the priests and temple guards had turned and headed solemnly back in the direction of Babylon. Sebastianus realized what had happened. The priests were not going to make martyrs of Judah's followers, because it would give the followers public sympathy.
Sebastianus wondered if Judah's memory would survive. Although Ulrika had urged everyone to remember him, people would always need temples and idols and priests. He thought of the ancient altar in his homeland, in a place the Romans called Finisterre—"the end of the world." An ancestress named Gaia had built the altar many centuries ago, and there had been a time, Sebastianus was told, when people had come from all over to pay homage at the altar. From as far away as Gaul and the Rhineland, it was said, pilgrims would follow ancient routes in order to pray at the scallop-shell altar. But bandits and brigands had taken to lying in wait for the defenseless wayfarers, to rob them and even kill them, so that pilgrimages to the scallop-shell altar eventually stopped and Gaia's altar was forgotten.
The Divining Page 33