Maximus

by Richard L. Black

  “Settle in, boys,” Jershon said. They sailed eastward into the rising sun. The wind picked up as they entered deeper water, and they made good time to the area Jershon had chosen to fish. David pulled his thick outer robe around his shoulders as the sun withheld its warmth behind the eastern mountains.

  Back at home, the girls awoke and joined Naomi around the hearth. Giggling and talking about marriageable men in the village started early. Raisa lumbered out a few minutes later, both hands resting on her stomach. She looked tired and pale. The girls helped her sit down. Naomi gave her a warm, damp cloth to wash her face and hands. “The time is almost here,” Naomi said as she placed her knowing hand on the taut belly of her daughter-in-law.

  “Yes, I believe so,” Raisa responded as she shifted her weight in the chair to find some comfort. Naomi, with the help of other women in the village, had prepared the needful things for the birth. Women with special skills would assist when the baby finally came. The three girls did what they could to make things more comfortable for Raisa. Liora was excited at the thought of being present for the birth. She had firmly made up her mind to stay in Capernaum for a season, though she had not yet discussed that decision with David.

  As the morning wore on, it became obvious that things were progressing quickly toward the birth of the baby. Naomi prepared the bed and sent Esther to summon the women who had agreed to help. Sariah began heating water, and Liora sat with Raisa.

  The sun was at its highest point in the sky when the little boy took his first breath, which was followed by a high-pitched cry announcing his birth into the world. The baby was cleaned and swaddled and placed in his mother’s arms against her breast. His grandmother, two aunts, and cousin Liora sat close by with tears in their eyes at the miracle of life.

  Liora was exhilarated to have witnessed the birth. She had so many questions she wanted to ask her aunt. As she sat quietly in the warm room admiring Raisa, she wondered when her own time would come to be a mother. Lamech would be so surprised when he returned, as the birth had not been expected for another week. Liora had been in Capernaum only a day, and already so much had happened.

  About the time Lamech’s wife was giving birth to their son, Lamech and the others were hauling in the net for the final time. Flipping and squirming fish filled the boat, denying the four fishermen proper footing to pull in the heavy net. It had been risky to sail to the eastern side of the lake on rumors. Jershon was a cautious fisherman, but he had felt good about attempting this particular run and was now flashing a satisfied grin at their good fortune. He stood at the stern of the boat, watching the three strong boys pull in the final fold of the net and then as a group fall laughing among the slippery fish.

  “Set sail, Lamech. Let’s go home,” Jershon ordered. Lamech managed to find footing and pull the lines that raised the sail. The wind was coming from the southwest, which allowed them to tack against it to return to Capernaum. Jershon held tight to the tiller as the fully loaded boat slowly responded to the pulling of the sail and leaned heavily over in the wind. Lamech adjusted the sail, the boat straightened, and they began cutting a deep path through the water.

  “David, we will have to invite you more often. You bring us good luck,” Jershon said. David smiled and raised his hand in acknowledgment. He had silver scales all over his body and smelled of fish. He was tired, thirsty, and hungry, but he had enjoyed every minute of the day. Hard work was so much easier when you didn’t have to work alone. Maybe he would become a fisherman. He sat among the fish and leaned against the hull of the boat with his arm over the side. He could see the distant shore and the high mountains on the far horizon to the north. The promised land was a beautiful place.

  Seth fell asleep in an instant, his head resting on the bulkhead of the boat. Lamech held the lines to the sails, making small pulls and releases as the wind changed direction. He thought of his tender wife and silently prayed for her comfort and well-being. Jershon had a strong arm on the tiller, keeping the tension tight against the pressure of the oncoming water to steer them home.

  David closed his eyes against the afternoon sun. The heat of midday was more bearable than the hair-singeing heat of the foundry, and the occasional spray of water misting his face was joyous. Soon the hypnotic surging of the boat lulled him to sleep.

  Jershon could see all the boys from his position at the tiller. David had been a huge help and had actually worked harder than his own sons. David never paced himself for a long day; he worked full speed all the time. It was almost tiring to watch him. Seth had become an enthusiastic and competent fisherman. Jershon was confident Seth would be successful on his own at this point. He directed his gaze at his eldest son, Lamech. What a joy Lamech was in his life. Surely Lamech was thinking of his sweet wife, Raisa, and anxious to be at home with her. He should probably counsel him to consider a livelihood that kept him safer and closer to his wife. Lamech worked hard and never complained when days grew long and they worked far into the night. But his special attachment to his wife could defeat him in this line of work. The land held a better future for him. He would bring up the matter with Lamech at an opportune time, perhaps the approaching Sabbath. Jershon recited a simple prayer for their safe arrival home.

  8

  Maximus was ecstatic about the new campaign. What Gaius Valerius had proposed involved Androcles too. It would challenge and expand the skills of both of them. He hoped Androcles would be as enthusiastic as he was. There was still much more to learn, and the senator had promised to talk to him again later that day. For now Maximus had plenty to consider.

  “Brother!” Maximus heard a shout from the front entrance to the courtyard. He turned to see the muscular Androcles entering. “I saw Gaius Valerius. He said he’d just met with you. What did he have to say?” Androcles inquired. “Something you want to tell me about?”

  “I certainly do, but you should probably sit down.” Maximus pulled his chair close to Androcles and repeated what Gaius had told him.

  “Maximus,” the senator had said, “about a month ago an emissary from Judaea presented himself to the emperor Tiberius. He carried with him a message from the prefect of Judaea, who is Pontius Pilate. Because Pilate happens to be a cousin to my wife, Tiberius assigned the issue to me for resolution. I met Pilate once long ago. He aspired to be a senator but displayed indecision and was passed over for more capable men. But he comes from a powerful family. His uncle had access to Tiberius and gained his confidence and his ear. Because of that, Pontius was appointed prefect in the Roman province of Judaea.”

  “Judaea is an interesting place. Do you know of it?” Gaius leaned toward Maximus and raised his eyebrows.

  “I know where it is but know little about the country or its people, senator,” Maximus responded.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter. It is far away and, frankly, offers the empire little in terms of assets, but strategically it lies north of Egypt. The Jews are a troublesome people. They are bound together by the worship of a god they call Jehovah. They claim royal lineage through an ancient progenitor they call Father Abraham. They look down on anyone who is not of the lineage of this Abraham. You and I, Maximus, would be known to these people as Gentiles, which is a derogatory term as far as I can tell. They have an arrogantly superior view of their race and culture.”

  Gaius stood and arched his back to stretch. “Being under Roman rule must really get under their skin,” he chuckled.

  “The territory has several parts. Galilee is in the north, named for a small sea in its midst. In the south are Judea, Idumea, and Samaria, which make up the province we call Judaea. Our friend Herod Antipas rules Galilee, and the prefect Pontius Pilate governs Judaea from Caesarea on the coast of the Great Sea. Inland is Jerusalem, the center of all Jewish religious activity.” The senator walked around as he spoke, posturing and looking to the sky occasionally as if he were addressing a crowd in an amphitheater. The consummate showman, Maximus thought.

  “What I find fascinating about this p
eople is there is no apparent order of government other than the religious precepts to which they rigorously adhere. They are ruled by their priests, who are members of the Sanhedrin. As I understand it, this is a group of older religious leaders who have risen in rank to this position. Rome maintains a modicum of control over this body by reserving the right to appoint the high priest. The current one is a man named Caiaphas.”

  Gaius sat down next to Maximus. “I have done some research on this Caiaphas,” he continued. “He was appointed by the previous prefect of Judaea, Valerius Gratus, and given authority over the Sanhedrin as well as charge of the Jewish temple in Jerusalem built by King Herod, the father of Herod Antipas, who is now tetrarch of Galilee.”

  Gaius looked at Maximus to make sure he was paying attention. Maximus met his gaze, wondering where this history lesson was leading.

  “Pilate communicates to us that the high priest, Caiaphas, came to him with a group of religious leaders to ask for intervention by Rome.” Gaius stood. “Here’s where the story gets interesting. The Jews subscribe to an ancient belief in a person they call the Messiah. Their prophets have spoken and written about this Messiah over the ages. Our Jewish advisors in the Senate tell us that this Messiah is predicted to come in glory and power, like the great legate Maximus with his legion, and rescue their people from all oppressors. The gods know these people can’t fight for themselves. History tells us the cities of the Jews have been sacked and the Jews enslaved by every people in the region. I can see where they would need to create a god called Messiah to deliver them.” Gaius laughed sardonically.

  “Caiaphas and his counselors told Pontius Pilate that there is a Galilean, a man known as Jesus of Nazareth, who people claim is this great Messiah. The funny thing is that Pontius Pilate seems genuinely concerned that this Jesus is some sort of god in the flesh! I think this Caiaphas is a sorcerer and has infected his mind.” Gaius gestured as if dismissing the overreacting Pontius Pilate. “He is still weak.” The senator sat back down in disgust.

  “The emissary tells us that this Jesus is the son of a simple carpenter. He has become a popular rabbi, so popular that two opposing political factions among the Jews have actually united in their efforts to thwart him. They have rallied the support of the Sanhedrin to ask Pilate for Rome’s help in stopping this Messiah, this carpenter Jesus.” Gaius laughed out loud. “No wonder these people can’t defend themselves. They fear carpenters.” He laughed louder. “The emissary goes on to say that this Jesus has a following of thousands. Everywhere he goes they follow him like cattle.”

  For the first time since Gaius began talking, Maximus asked a question. “Is he armed?” He went on. “Does he carry weapons of war? Are these thousands they refer to a legion of warriors?”

  “No, his weapons are his words. His followers are a mix of men and women, young and old, of the common classes. They sit at his feet in meadows and on hillsides listening to him preach. They crowd into the synagogues to hear him debate the Law with the Pharisees and Sadducees. The emissary reports that this Jesus confounds the experts with his knowledge and reason. They constantly challenge him, but he quiets them and at the same time infuriates them by speaking with clarity and boldness on the stickiest points of the Jewish law. He challenges them on their understanding of the ancient laws and proves them foolish in their interpretation. Maybe I should have him brought to Rome to help me argue my theories,” Gaius said with a chuckle.

  “Does he incite rebellion against Rome?” Maximus asked.

  “No, the emissary says he speaks only of peace.”

  “With respect, what is the problem the high priest takes to Pontius Pilate, and what compelling argument does he make to cause Pilate to send an emissary to the emperor requesting assistance? Why doesn’t he just command a cohort to hunt this Jesus down and throw him in prison?”

  “First of all, my young friend, Pontius Pilate isn’t man enough to command a cohort to relieve themselves at a latrine. And second, as the emissary admits, this Jesus hasn’t done anything to warrant punishment by Rome.”

  “I’m confused, sir. If this Jesus hasn’t broken the Law and isn’t subversive, if he is just a popular rabbi with a new interpretation of the Jewish religion, why would Pontius Pilate think he is a threat to Rome?” Maximus queried.

  “Logic would tell us that he isn’t. But there is a peculiar element to this story.” Gaius paused, and his tone became serious. “Thirty or so years ago King Herod was told the same fable of this Messiah. Our Jewish advisors inform us that members of a priestly caste in the east who were skilled in astronomy visited Herod in his court to inquire about a child born during that time who was to become king of the Jews. They told Herod they had seen the child’s star in the eastern heavens and had traveled some distance to worship him. Herod asked the chief priests and scribes where this boy-king could be found. The priests informed him that one of the ancient prophets, a man named Micah, said Bethlehem would be the birthplace of the future ruler of Israel. Herod deceitfully asked these men to find the child so he himself could worship him. It isn’t known whether the magi found the young child because they never returned. So Herod ordered the murder of all children under the age of two in Bethlehem and the surrounding area. He was always fierce in eliminating his enemies or those he thought would become his enemy.”

  Maximus wondered what all this had to do with him. “So the story of Herod killing the children is true?” Maximus asked.

  “Yes, it is,” Gaius replied.

  “This Jesus,” Maximus asked. “How old is he?”

  “Good question,” Gaius said. “If he is about thirty, he somehow escaped the purge. But the more important question is, Does this carpenter’s son have the potential to evolve into the legendary Messiah? Is his strategy to pose as a peaceful rabbi, gather an army right under our nose, and when his numbers are sufficient, overtake our cohorts?

  “Then you believe Pontius Pilate?” Maximus asked.

  “Maximus, let me share something of my burden. The empire is like a large octopus whose tentacles stretch far and wide. The work of the Senate is to be sure that even when the tentacles are stretched to their maximum length, they still nurture the body that gives them life. The loss of even one can affect the balance of the whole. We have to make sure the body stays intact and the tentacles remain strong and firmly attached. Tiberius has asked me to attend to one of our tentacles. Now I could be patient and let this run its course. Nothing may come of it; it may be only the paranoia of a weak leader. But if I do nothing and this Jesus really is the Messiah spoken of since ancient times, and it all escalates into an action against the empire—I stand accountable. I stand accountable to Rome,” he repeated. “If you, Maximus, were the commander of the cohorts in Judaea and this army arose and slew you and your men because of my inaction—may the gods have mercy on me!” Gaius raised his arms to the heavens. “Your ghost, Maximus, would haunt me to my death.”

  Maximus contemplated the senator’s words and realized he spoke wisely. “The fastest way to Judaea is by sea. It would take a month or more to gather troops, set sail, and render assistance to the forces already established,” Maximus added. He could see that somehow he was going to be a part of the senator’s plan.

  “Yes, I agree,” Gaius said. “The land route would take far too much time.”

  “So you have decided to honor Pontius Pilate’s request.” Maximus was trying to discern what was in Gaius’s mind.

  “I don’t see this as honoring a weak man’s request. I am simply looking after the assets of Rome.”

  Maximus resigned himself to leading the campaign to Judaea. “When do we leave?” Maximus stood.

  “Tomorrow,” Gaius answered emphatically, looking at the legate and waiting for his reaction.

  “Tomorrow?” Maximus said incredulously. “It will take a week to gather the men and another week to rearm. The ships, the supplies—” he stared at the senator, not believing what he was hearing.

  “My son, y
ou have sat patiently listening to me describe the problem. Now sit patiently and listen to the plan.”

  Maximus obeyed. His mind was spinning with all the things that would have to be done in a short time.

  “Maximus,” Gaius Valerius began, “I have discussed this with Tiberius, and we have agreed you are to go to Judaea and meet with Pontius Pilate, but we are not sending additional soldiers with you.” He stopped to let the words settle in.

  “What do you mean, not sending soldiers?” Maximus asked.

  “Exactly what I said, Maximus. We are sending you as an emissary. We would like you and Androcles to investigate this Jesus and the situation in the country. A member of the military council has reported that an Egyptian merchant ship is sailing late tomorrow, directly from Ostia to Caesarea. He has arranged passage for the two of you.” Maximus had not been able to conceal his shock at this new direction. “My son, I know you have a multitude of concerns and questions. We will talk more this afternoon.”

  For the first time Maximus could remember, Androcles sat dumbfounded, not a word coming out of his mouth. Maximus smiled at his friend’s bewilderment.

  “When do you meet again with Gaius Valerius?” was all Androcles could muster.

  “He just said later this afternoon.” Maximus stood and put his hand on the shoulder of his friend. “My brother, my petition to the gods has been answered.”

  “Your petition, brother,” Androcles retorted, “not mine.”

  Maximus could understand the consternation of his friend. After all, he was the consummate warrior, and this was unfamiliar ground. Androcles was used to slash-and-burn diplomacy. In past campaigns, when the opportunity presented itself to avoid a conflict and reason with the enemy, he would accompany Maximus to the table, but he always had one hand on his sword, not trusting the craft of negotiation and compromise, the skills that saved men’s lives. Maximus was confident that Androcles would reason through whatever internal conflict he was having. If he couldn’t, then Maximus would make the voyage alone. It was as simple as that.