Wings of Refuge

by Lynn Austin

  “And tomorrow night I’ll show you another letter, Abba,” Elizabeth said.

  “Well, I’m afraid not. I have to leave tomorrow morning for Caesarea, remember? But you’re such a clever little girl, I’ll bet you’ll be writing your whole name by the time I come home.”

  “May I go to Caesarea with you, Abba? Please?”

  “I’m going there on business, Elizabeth. But I’ll bring you a present, if you’d like. What will it be? What shall I bring you this time?”

  Leah knew the effect Elizabeth’s charm always had on her father. Master Reuben would bring her a camel caravan of jewels if she asked for it. Leah knew she should warn him that Elizabeth would soon be old enough to ask for it. But this time Elizabeth didn’t request playthings and trinkets.

  “Why can’t I go with you, Abba?”

  “Well, perhaps when you’re older . . .”

  Elizabeth planted her hands on her hips. “How old must I be? I’m already five!”

  Reuben stared at her in surprise, a bemused look on his face. “Leah, do you think Elizabeth is old enough to travel?”

  Leah was startled when the master suddenly addressed her by name. She seldom spoke now that Elizabeth was capable of conversing with her father herself. She often wondered if Master Reuben even remembered she was there.

  “Old enough?” Leah hesitated, unsure from his expression what he wanted her to say. When she detected no warning in his eyes, she decided to tell the truth. “Yes, Master Reuben, I do. She is so active and curious that I think she must be quite bored with Degania. A new experience would be good for her. That is . . . if you think it would be safe, my lord.”

  “The Zealots have fled to the Negev for now,” he said quietly.

  “So may I go with you, Abba?”

  He smiled. “All right. But you must come with us, too, Leah. Elizabeth will need you to care for her while I conduct my business.”

  Leah could scarcely believe it. He was offering her a chance to travel outside of Degania. To go to the nation’s capital, Caesarea, and see the royal palace and the Great Sea. The only other trip Leah had made was when she went to Jerusalem for Passover, and that had ended in disappointment. Master Reuben must have noticed her surprise and excitement.

  He winked at his daughter and said, “I think Leah is as thrilled as you are, Elizabeth.”

  Leah and Miriam worked by lamplight to pack all the things Elizabeth would need for the journey. Leah was so excited she barely slept that night and was up hours before dawn. But when she took Elizabeth to the master, dressed and ready to go, it was Leah, not his daughter, whom he scrutinized from head to toe.

  “Oh dear,” he said, frowning. “Is that all you have to wear?”

  Leah’s heart sank, certain he would decide to leave her behind. She was dressed in her usual servant’s robes, the only garments she had—the only garments that were necessary in Degania.

  “Miriam, isn’t there something else Leah could wear?” Reuben asked the older servant. “We can’t have her running around Caesarea looking like a kitchen maid.”

  “Well, my lord . . .” Miriam said hesitantly, “would one of Mistress Ruth’s old robes do?”

  “Yes, that’s fine. But be quick about it. It will take us more than two days to get there as it is.”

  * * *

  They arrived in Caesarea near sundown, so Leah didn’t get to see much of the city in the fading daylight. They stayed near the royal palace in lodgings for employees of the Roman government. Master Reuben allowed Leah to sleep in Elizabeth’s room as she did at home instead of in the slaves’ dormitories with his other servants. He sent for his daughter the following afternoon when his business was completed.

  “How about a tour of the city?” he asked Elizabeth as they stood outside on the street. “Shall I rent a litter like that one to transport us?” Four slaves trotted past, carrying the boxlike conveyance on their shoulders by its poles.

  “It’s too small, Abba. We won’t all fit.”

  “We . . .?”

  “Leah must come, too.”

  Leah knew by the look of surprise on Master Reuben’s face that he had pictured himself touring alone with his daughter. But he quickly recovered and said, “Yes, of course she must. Shall we walk instead?”

  The pagan city fascinated Leah, yet it shocked her at every turn. There were more Roman soldiers prowling the streets here than in Jerusalem. But much worse, graven images sprouted everywhere among the fountains and fine homes, made in the likenesses of men and women and animals and birds. If she tried to avert her eyes each time she saw one, she would miss most of the city.

  “Only the ones next to altars or inside the temples are worshiped as idols,” Reuben explained. “The others are called statues. The Greeks believe that the human form is lovely to look at, like a sunset or a beautiful view. Some of these were made to honor men who did great deeds for Rome. And of course the eagle you see everywhere is a symbol of the empire—much like a menorah might symbolize the Temple in Jerusalem.”

  “This is so different from Jerusalem,” Leah said as they walked down the wide colonnaded avenue toward the royal palace. “The streets were very narrow there, and they meandered like ants on a hot stone. But here they’re so . . . so straight!”

  “King Herod planned them that way. The streets are all the same distance apart as well. There was no natural seaport in his kingdom, you see, so he designed and built Caesarea and made it his capital. It took him twelve years to complete.”

  Dozens of questions poured from Leah, one right after the other, as they walked. She was only a servant, but she had grown so accustomed to talking freely with Nathaniel when he was in Degania and with her fellow Christians when they met to break bread every week that in her excitement she forgot herself. Master Reuben didn’t seem to mind. He answered her queries as casually as he answered his daughter’s.

  Leah saw that he was fascinated with the Greek culture that had been imported here by Rome. He talked enthusiastically about the many plays he’d seen in the amphitheater facing the sea and the sporting events he’d attended in the hippodrome and the arena.

  “Would you like to attend a play or a contest while we’re here?” he asked.

  Leah quickly shook her head. “No, thank you, my lord. I could never feel comfortable at those places. I’m afraid that the forbidden things have been too deeply ingrained in me by the Pharisees.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she worried that she had offended him. She glanced at him, but his expression was impassive.

  “There is a Jewish quarter here in Caesarea,” he said, “with about twenty thousand inhabitants. It would look more like home to you, I think. The Gentile population is much larger, of course. Unfortunately, there is also a great deal of tension between the two peoples.”

  “Why don’t the Jewish people leave? This is obviously a pagan city.”

  “It isn’t that simple,” Reuben replied. “The Jews believe that since Caesarea was founded by King Herod, a Jewish king, the city is therefore Jewish. It’s the capital of their homeland. They want to demolish the statues and pagan temples and make it like Jerusalem, where such things aren’t allowed. The Gentile population says the city was designed as a Gentile city, that King Herod set up the statues and temples, and therefore he didn’t design Caesarea for Jews. He even named it after the Roman emperor.”

  A sudden thought occurred to Leah. “You’re caught in the middle, aren’t you?” she said. “Between the two peoples.”

  Master Reuben looked at her in surprise. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

  Beyond Herod’s royal palace where the Roman governor lived, the temple to Augustus stood near the water’s edge. It was an impressive building with pillars on all four sides, dominating a plaza in the heart of the city. Leah wouldn’t look at the colossal statue of Caesar inside it. She was much more interested in gazing out at the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean. Two massive man-made breakwaters stretched like arms to embrace the sea, encircl
ing several acres of water to create the port.

  “Oh, look! Could we walk out into the sea along those

  walls?” she asked.

  “Yes, if you’d like to,” Master Reuben said. As they strolled, he explained how Herod’s engineers had sunk massive blocks of stone into the water to create an artificial buffer against the pounding waves. The walkway was two hundred feet wide, with towers evenly spaced all along it. The most beautiful one, Reuben said, was called the Drusium, after Caesar’s stepson. White stone buildings with arched recesses for storage lined the inside of the breakwaters, their walls reflecting the afternoon sun.

  When they had walked partway, they stopped to gaze out at the sea that stretched off into the distance until it met the blue sky on the horizon. “I’ve never seen a body of water that had no opposite shore,” Leah murmured. She listened in awe to the cry of seabirds and the slap of the waves as they smashed against the wall below her. She followed the mast of a ship as it grew from a tiny white speck to a billowing sail, rising and falling on the waves as it slowly neared the port. She watched another ship maneuver through the narrow opening between the breakwaters.

  Inside the harbor, dozens of masts bobbed on the waves as the ships lay at anchor, their sails furled like fat scrolls. Master Reuben let Elizabeth stop to watch a gang of stevedores, nearly naked except for their loincloths, load cargo that was destined for ports all over the empire—Nabatean incense, snowy bales of wool, and huge clay amphorae containing wine and fruit. The passengers waiting to embark spoke a babble of strange languages. Leah loved the combination of smells—the pungent aroma of fish and seaweed, the bite of salt in the air and water, the pine scent of pitch used to waterproof the boats.

  “What is that thing, Abba?” Elizabeth asked. “It looks like a long, long bridge.” She was pointing back toward the city where a row of perfectly symmetrical arches, joined at the top, marched along the beach north of the city until it disappeared from sight in the haze.

  “It’s not a bridge, it’s an aqueduct,” he explained. “It brings drinking water to the city from a spring on Mount Car-mel, many miles away.”

  At last they turned back to the city, and Master Reuben led them through one of the more opulent sections of the marketplace. Seeing the master’s fine robes, merchants scrambled to show him their wares as he passed, trying to outshout each other, each man insisting that only he could offer Master Reuben the best bargain in all of Caesarea. Not to be outdone, one young merchant stepped smoothly in the master’s path, holding an exquisite golden chain set with semiprecious stones.

  “Sir, why not buy this necklace for your wife?” he asked. “It would look beautiful on her lovely neck.” He gestured to Leah.

  Leah didn’t understand why, but her heart suddenly began to race. She had once feared becoming Master Reuben’s concubine, but now that she knew him the idea didn’t frighten her at all. She remembered the night he had held her in his arms and found herself wishing that he would hold her again.

  Master Reuben didn’t correct the merchant. He didn’t look at the man in outrage and disgust and say that Leah was his servant, not his wife. He simply shook his head, saying, “No, thank you,” and walked on.

  By the time they returned to their lodgings, Leah was nearly as exhausted as little Elizabeth was. “Let her sleep as long as she likes tomorrow,” Master Reuben said. “My business affairs will take most of the morning, then we’ll find something to do in the afternoon.”

  Leah had planned to sleep late as well, but someone shook her awake just as the sky was growing light the next morning. “Leah . . . Leah, wake up!”

  She opened her eyes. Master Reuben stood over her, calling her name. He was breathless, his lungs heaving as if he had run a long distance. She saw the alarm on his face and sat up. “What’s wrong?”

  “You must . . . get Elizabeth . . . out of here,” he said, panting. “Hurry!”

  Leah heard it then—the same roar of rushing water she remembered from the day the Zealots had stormed their villa in Degania. But if that sound had been a river, this one was a tidal wave. She scrambled from her bed and grabbed Mistress Ruth’s robe.

  “No, don’t wear that one, Leah. It isn’t safe. Wear a . . . a servant’s robe. You have to blend in with the others.”

  She stared at him, her fear multiplying with each passing second. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “A mob of Jews desecrated a pagan altar this morning. They’re gathering in the plaza outside right now, preparing to storm the government buildings—like this one.” Master Reuben was gathering his daughter’s scattered belongings as he talked, stuffing them into her satchel. “You have to get Elizabeth out of here! Take her down the back way, through the servants’ quarters. Gather the rest of my servants and leave—”

  “What about you? Aren’t you coming with us?”

  “I can’t. I’m a Roman publican. I would endanger all of you if someone recognized me.” He found one of Elizabeth’s sandals and crouched to look under the bed for the other one. When he stood again, his hair fell into his eyes. “The mob is Jewish, like you and the others, Leah. They won’t harm you once they know you’re on their side. Please . . . you must pretend that Elizabeth is your daughter—”

  “But, Master Reuben, I can’t leave you here!”

  “You must! Aren’t you listening to me? I’m . . . I’m ordering you to get dressed and get out of here! The mob will let you through, but once the Roman garrison arrives, you’ll be slaughtered along with all the rest of the Jews!”

  His shouts awakened Elizabeth. “Abba?” she said sleepily “What . . . ?”

  “It’s time to go, Elizabeth. Come on, I’ll help you get dressed.” She was still limp from sleep.

  Leah watched, unable to move as Reuben shoved Elizabeth’s arms into the sleeves of her robe, then fastened her sandals on her feet. “You’re caught in the middle,” Leah said, remembering Master Reuben’s words from yesterday. “The Jews will kill you because you work for the Romans, but to the Gentiles you’re just another Jew to slaughter.”

  He whirled on her angrily, shouting, “Why aren’t you dressed? I told you to get dressed!” Elizabeth began to cry.

  Suddenly Leah realized what she had to do. When Master Reuben’s back was turned, she grabbed the ornate robe that had once been Mistress Ruth’s and quickly put it on, then she coiled her hair on her head with shaking fingers. Master Reuben had Elizabeth on her feet and headed toward the door, trying to calm her tears.

  “Master Reuben, wait!” Leah said, pulling him to a stop. She grabbed his sash and tore it off him. “Take off your robe! Put on this one!” She shoved her servant’s tunic into his hands. The coarse clothing of the working class looked much the same for a man or a woman.

  “Leah! What are you doing?” Master Reuben pushed her away as she tried to yank his outer robe off him. Desperate, Leah turned to Elizabeth.

  “You want your abba to come with us, don’t you?”

  “Yes—”

  “Then we need to play a little game. I’ll pretend to be your mama, all right? That’s what you must call me for a little while. But you mustn’t call your father ‘Abba,’ do you understand? We will pretend that he’s our servant. He’s going to dress just like one of them and carry you to safety. Can you do that for me, Elizabeth?”

  “No!” Reuben shouted. “I can’t allow you to do this!”

  “And I can’t allow you to sacrifice yourself!” Leah shouted right back. “What would Elizabeth do if anything happened to you?” And what would I do without you? she silently wondered.

  Reuben stared at Leah as if shocked that anyone would dare to speak to him like that, especially his servant. But Leah didn’t care what happened to her once this was over. She had to save the life of the man she loved. She had been afraid to acknowledge it before, but at the thought of him being torn to pieces by the mob, she admitted to herself that it was true. She loved Reuben ben Johanan.

  “My idea will work,” s
he said in a softer voice. “Trust me.” She tugged his robe off his shoulders while he was still frozen in shock, then helped him into her tunic. It was a tight fit, but it would do. “Take off your sandals,” she ordered. “They’re too nice. You’ll have to go barefoot.” While he bent to untie them, Leah dumped some oil from the lamp into the palm of her hand and mixed it with ashes from the charcoal brazier. Before he could protest, she rubbed the mixture into his silky hair. “It’s much too clean and shiny,” she said. “And give me your money pouch.” She took it from him and fastened it to her own belt.

  “Just hurry, Leah,” he said, lifting Elizabeth into his arms. “We’re running out of time.” The noise outside in the street had become an angry roar.

  Leah led the way through the maze of corridors to the slaves’ dormitories and quickly rounded up the rest of Master Reuben’s frightened servants. She was encouraged to see that they didn’t recognize their master at first. She explained what she was doing and hurried them outside through the rear gate of the compound.

  The streets behind the building were deserted. Anyone who hadn’t joined the mob was barricaded inside his home. But as she neared the city gate, Leah saw a gang of armed freedom fighters standing in their path. She froze, hesitating as her courage suddenly deserted her. Then, realizing that it would look suspicious to fear her own countrymen, she quickly recovered and hurried toward them.

  “Oh, thank God! You’re on our side!” she cried. She rushed forward, as if to safety. “Please, can you help my daughter and me get out of the city? We’re from Galilee and we’re trying to get home.”

  “Galilee? What are you doing in Caesarea?” one of the men asked.

  For a horribly long moment, Leah’s mind went blank. It hadn’t occurred to her that they would ask that question. Then a picture came to her of the stevedores loading cargo onto the boats in the harbor, the knot of passengers waiting beneath a canopy to embark.