by Debra Diaz
“I think you will agree that it is unwise to stir up the Jews. And many of the Christians are Jews. They may have had their differences, but they will flock together if something like this happens.”
Lysias glared at him. “What do you expect of me, Metellus? Just say it!”
Metellus returned his belligerent stare. “First, you should be in full agreement with me that this will not come to pass. And then, we should both go to see Herod Agrippa. If that has no effect, we visit the High Priest. I promise you, Lysias, if this thing is not stopped, I will take the matter to Caesar. He may not care that a few Christians were killed, but he won’t be pleased to hear that the High Priest in Jerusalem is hiring assassins, with the cooperation of Rome.”
For a long moment the only sounds were those of servants shuffling in the hall, preparing the evening meal, and of a trumpet marking the time on the parade ground outside the large window. Lysias’ scowl began to clear.
“Very well. I would almost enjoy an altercation with the priests. They act as if they’re in charge most of the time! I will arrange it. Let’s pay a visit to Agrippa—tonight!”
* * * *
The Jewish king listened to the Roman commander’s words with a bored expression that turned rapidly to unease, and then to deep apprehension. He looked from Lysias to Metellus in the bright glow of the many lamps, his stomach rumbling in complaint of his missed supper. His short brown hair was oiled so that the curls stuck to his forehead, and his beard ended in a sharp point on his chin. A glittering purple robe flowed about him so loosely that it was impossible to tell whether he was fat or thin.
“Where did you hear this?” he demanded, as Lysias had.
“Never mind that,” said Lysias. “You are supposed to manage the Temple and keep these priests under control.”
“If Ananias has already made arrangements with the Sic—Sicarii”—Agrippa stumbled over the dreaded word—“then there is nothing anyone can do about it.”
“You can do something about it,” Metellus said. “You tell the High Priest he must put a stop to the plan. He probably hasn’t paid them yet. See that he refuses to pay them. In fact, you can take his authority away from him so that he cannot pay.”
“Who are you?” Agrippa asked, with a sulky look of interest.
“He is Metellus Petraeus, formerly of the Praetorian Guard and protector of the emperor.”
“You,” Metellus went on, as though he hadn’t heard the exchange, “can even depose the High Priest. There are a number of ways you can convince him to act.”
“Suppose these assassins resent being called down, and losing what probably would have been a substantial payment. Probably in gold, from the Temple treasury! Suppose they come after me?”
“Did you already know of this plot?” Metellus asked. “Are you part of it?”
Agrippa grew pale. “No! The Christians are bothersome, I will admit, but I would not go so far as to plan something like this. It would be a massacre! Many of them are Jews, and some may even be Roman citizens. Rome would be forced to retaliate—there would be war. Why should I want such trouble to fall upon us?”
“I have been ordered not to retaliate,” Lysias told him. “I was to arrest a few Zealots and blame it on them. Ananias only wants to get rid of the Christians.”
“It’s a foolish plan,” Agrippa said, regaining his color and looking thoughtful. “It could go wrong in many ways. Ananias has become obsessed.”
“Foolish or not, it will happen unless you prevent it,” Metellus said. “There’s nothing Lysias can do to the High Priest, or to protect these men. Cumanus has gone to Syria, and so there is no time to try and find him—and I don’t know that he could be made to do anything. He will simply deny knowing about it.”
“What about the deputy procurator?”
“He is useless, and in complicity with the plot,” Lysias answered. He gave Metellus a look indicating that the situation was hopeless.
“Herod Agrippa,” Metellus said slowly, “as ruler of the Temple, you are the most powerful man in Palestine. Even Rome cannot control the Jews, which is why we have given them their religious freedom. The Sicarii will not dare come against you. You are the only man who can prevent what could become a very…bad…situation.” He let the king absorb these words, and added, “And if it does, Caesar will not be pleased. You could well lose your position, if not your life.”
Agrippa had lifted his chin and there was a glint in his eyes as he considered—indeed, he was powerful! Indeed, God would not have put him in so high a position for nothing! God certainly would protect so important a man from harm.
“If it is not too late,” he said, “I will stop it.”
CHAPTER XXIV
Rachel knew immediately that she and Samuel were in trouble.
She shouldn’t have let Samuel ride Huldah today, but how could she have known what would happen? There had never been as many people on this narrow road! It must be because the Passover celebration was only a few days away…they were coming up from Bethlehem and other places, and some of the roads met on the south side of town. There had not been many people walking past when Samuel began his ride, but a sudden convergence caught them both by surprise.
Somehow the boy had lost control of the donkey and they were forced to join the flow of people surging toward the Holy City. Rachel became trapped some distance behind, and when she began to run, Samuel was so far ahead she could barely see him. She followed, fighting her way through the press of hundreds of people…where had they all come from? Huldah kept trotting, with Samuel helplessly hanging onto her mane.
Without stopping, she began to pray…silently but fervently. There was no one to help them, no servant, even Lazarus didn’t know she had allowed Samuel to ride on the road. He would miss them soon, but by then they would be all the way to Jerusalem!
She grew increasingly frightened when she was not able to catch up with Samuel. People and animals and carts continually blocked her path, and he soon disappeared from view.
* * * *
The horse Metellus rode was capricious…he had been asked to work with her but had not had much time to do so. He tightened his grip and made the horse hold her head high as he picked his way through the masses. He was returning from a visit to the lower city, when a sudden influx of people had turned the streets into a crawling mass of humanity. He knew they were coming from all directions; they would fill every room in every inn and house that offered lodging.
He felt uneasy, in spite of the fact that Herod Agrippa assured him, and Lysias, that he had been successful in calling off the anticipated attack by the Sicarii. He had spent the afternoon with James and his family, and had let them know that the danger was supposedly past, but to be watchful. Metellus had intended to go to Bethany and tell Lazarus, but the streets were almost impassable except for those who were heading into the city.
According to Agrippa, the High Priest had been furious that he was being forced to give up his plan, lest he face immediate expulsion from the priesthood, and then he had been terrified at the prospect of sending a message to the Sicarii. But somehow he had let the group of assassins know that the plan had gone awry and they would be receiving no compensation. They had sent a terse message back, saying that they would not carry out the attack, but they expected half of the agreed upon amount. Ananias falsified the treasury accounts, as he had originally intended to do, and sent them the money.
Agrippa was smug and certain of his success, though both Lysias and Metellus were not fully convinced. The commander had ordered more troops than usual to guard the Temple area in the preceding days, and Metellus felt an instinctive sense of sharpened alertness as he made slow passage toward the Antonia.
As he neared the Temple, a series of screams and shouts filled the air. From his horse Metellus could see the wave of panic that rippled over the crowds as they began to scatter and run. More women screamed…donkeys and pack-animals scrambled in fright. Soldiers on horseback were force
d against walls and into alleys. Metellus’ horse began to shuffle and jerk, caught in the mad rush, and he fought for control even as his eyes scanned the way ahead to see what had happened. He saw nothing but fleeing people, and reasoned that the trouble must have come from the Temple area.
Soldiers on foot appeared, but there was nothing they could do to stop the wild flight. People stumbled and fell and were trampled. Perhaps they thought they were under attack, or that the Romans were going to kill them all. Metellus remembered hearing of a similar occurrence some years ago, and he knew that many people were probably going to die.
Somehow, in all the chaos, he caught a glimpse of a light-colored head that shone with glints of gold from the waning sun. His eyes lowered and he could not believe it was Rachel. She had been fighting the onslaught, her arms out in self protection, but now she was being forced backward. She kept trying to turn and look behind, her face full of alarm and dread.
He urged his horse forward, hoping no one would fall under the hooves, and made his way toward her. So intently did she seem to be looking for someone that she failed to see him. He reached out an arm and scooped her up so suddenly that she had no time to react until she was seated behind him. He couldn’t look at her or say anything as he fought both his horse and the mob.
“Metellus!” she gasped and said no more, clutching him around the waist. He gradually maneuvered to the extreme right side of the street where there were fewer rushing people, and half turned toward her.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes—are you?”
He nodded, pulling back on the reins. “Who were you looking for?”
“Samuel,” she said breathlessly, and sounded as if she were crying. “Oh, Metellus, what is happening? He must be so frightened. He was riding Huldah and lost the reins. They got away from me and we were caught in the crowd…”
“All right,” he said, when her voice broke off. “I’ll find him, Rachel. But first you must be safe—do you know anyone who lives nearby?”
There was a long pause and he barely heard her answer. “Benjamin. His house is very near. I would have stopped there but I was swept along and couldn’t stop.”
“Tell me where.”
She gave directions, and they made their way with agonizing slowness through the gradually thinning streets. Soldiers suddenly seemed to be everywhere.
“Centurion!” he called out to one of them. “What has happened?”
“I don’t know. Something in the Temple. Just move along—we’re clearing the streets—”
Rachel clung to him, her emotions spiraling so that she couldn’t seem to have a single clear thought. She was exhausted, and for a moment her cheek rested against his strong, hard back. “Metellus,” she whispered, knowing that, in all the clamor, he could not hear her. They reached Benjamin’s house. Metellus positioned the horse as a barricade against any rushing people and, reaching out, held her arm as she slid down from the horse. She straightened herself, looked up at him, and stood frozen as their eyes met and held. The door opened behind her and a servant peered out at them.
“Oh, my lady, it’s you! The master has gone out to help with the wounded. Thank the Lord you are safe!”
Metellus gave Rachel no time to reply. “In what direction was Samuel going? The same as everyone else, I gather?”
“Yes, toward the Temple. I completely lost sight of him.”
“I will bring him back,” he said. She watched as he made his way forward, against the current of running, frightened people.
* * * *
“Here, you’ll have to get off the streets!” a soldier shouted, but Metellus rode on, ignoring him. The soldier was too harried for pursuit, and, since Metellus seemed to have a purpose, other soldiers let him pass. He guided the horse from side to side, looking down streets and alleyways, going as far as the entrance to the Temple Mount, and then doubling back. At last, as the streets began to clear, he stopped to think…and asked himself where he would go, if he were a small boy, lost in the city. His eyes lifted to the towers of the Antonia. Would a Jewish child go to a Roman fortress? He didn’t know, but he would look.
It was almost completely dark. He ascended the wide ramps and rode at once to the stable. There were only a few soldiers left to stand guard.
“Have you seen a young boy?” he called out. The guards, who knew him, looked at each other, and back at him. “No, sir.”
He nodded, but went into the stable anyway. The guards had been busy and distracted…they could have missed a boy, even a boy on a donkey. Hurriedly he began looking into each stall, and in the third one he saw the back of a brown donkey with legs speckled with white. His tension dissolved and he went forward to give her a pat, which made her jerk up her head; she flicked her ears and her mouth opened a little as if she were about to speak to him.
“Hello, Huldah—what have you done with Samuel?”
The donkey stretched out her neck and let out a low-pitched grunt. He patted her again and left the stable, still hurrying, and entered the praetorium. A light shone from one of the reception rooms.
When he entered, he stopped short on seeing Megara sitting in a chair, close beside a small boy who sat at a table and was eating heartily. Samuel looked up and his eyes widened. Leaving his meal, he ran around the table and clasped Metellus around the waist.
“Metellus! I was hoping you would be here! Why haven’t you come to see us?”
Metellus bent down to embrace him briefly. “I was planning to. So, Huldah ran away with you, did she?”
“Yes! I think she got excited with all the people and the other donkeys on the road, and I couldn’t stop her. She didn’t slow down until we passed the Temple, and then I thought of coming here, because I knew you stayed here once. Does Rachel know where I am?”
“I will take you to her. Finish your meal, Samuel.”
The boy obediently went back to the table and took a long swallow of milk. Megara stood up and said, “A most remarkable child. He came straight up the steps of the portico and asked the guard if he could wait here until someone came for him. I happened to hear him. He asked if you were here, and I said I didn’t know.”
“Samuel and I are old friends,” Metellus said, smiling at him.
“He said he is from Bethany,” Megara said, eyeing him sharply. “Is he related to your wife?”
“I’m her brother,” Samuel said. “Almost. Wait—you do mean Rachel, don’t you? But she’s not your—”
“Go ahead and eat, Samuel. I’d like to speak with Megara.”
Metellus led the way across the room and spoke in a low voice. “Do you know what happened? Is Lysias here?”
“No, he has not returned. Drusus was told that several priests were murdered at the Temple. One of the Sicarii, who was angry that Ananias called off his plan—or perhaps disappointed to receive less payment than he anticipated. He seems to be insane, according to the soldiers who arrested him. He was screaming and stabbing everyone in sight until the Temple guards overcame him.”
Metellus frowned. “Was Ananias killed?”
Megara looked at him a little regretfully. “According to Drusus, no. He spoke with some of the soldiers involved in the arrest. Lysias has ordered everyone off the streets for the next several days.”
“Nevertheless,” said Metellus, “I will take Samuel back to Rachel.”
“Tell her that I am coming to see her. Perhaps tomorrow. I will make—I mean ask—Drusus to allow it. He is superior to Lysias.”
Metellus looked at her with concern. “I wouldn’t, Megara. Not for a while. It may not be safe.”
“I will have my bodyguards—where is she? Bethany?”
“No. She was trying to follow Samuel. She’s at the home of the physician, Benjamin.”
“I know Benjamin—he is often here. Is she hurt?”
“Benjamin is the man she’s going to marry,” said Samuel, who obviously had excellent hearing.
Metellus glanced at him. “If you�
�ve finished, Samuel, I will take you there now. No, Megara, she isn’t hurt.”
“What does he mean?” Megara whispered sharply. “You are already mar—”
“It’s a long story. I will tell you about it, sometime.”
The boy wiped his mouth on his sleeve, pushed back his chair, and ran to Metellus. “Is Huldah all right? The soldier said he would put her in the stable.”
“Yes, we’re taking Huldah, by all means. But you’re riding with me.”
“On a horse?” he cried eagerly.
“On a horse.” Metellus looked surprised when the boy thrust his hand into his own, but he grinned at him and they turned to leave. Samuel turned back to Megara.
“Thank you for helping me,” he said, with sudden seriousness.
“You are quite welcome,” she said, and added, “Samuel, you mustn’t repeat anything you’ve heard here tonight.”
“Oh, I know how to keep a secret,” he answered, then glanced at Metellus and said, “But maybe I shouldn’t have said that about Benjamin. I don’t think anyone is supposed to know. They’re not betrothed yet.”
Metellus looked down at him thoughtfully. “Don’t worry. I’ll not tell anyone. But…I’m glad to know it.”
* * * *
Metellus obtained a pass from Drusus in case anyone tried to stop him. The streets were all but deserted now, by everyone except soldiers. There was no moon…here and there torches flared and smoked. The Temple Mount was brightly lit, and there seemed to be much activity up and down the stairways. Metellus rode past it, with Samuel sitting behind him. He led Huldah on a short rope, and the donkey trotted docilely alongside them. The horse expressed little interest in her, and seemed rather daunted by Metellus’ determined control over them both.
“When we get there, may I hold your sword, Metellus?” Samuel asked, looking respectfully at the weapon at Metellus’ side.
“I don’t think I will stay very long,” Metellus answered, after a moment. “But you may hold it—carefully.”