by Debra Diaz
“I’m always careful. Today was an accident. That’s never happened to me before.”
“It could happen to anyone. But an animal can be guided without reins, Samuel. I will show you—sometime.” After he had spoken, Metellus wasn’t sure when that might be.
Benjamin’s house, one among many fine houses on this street in the upper city, loomed in the darkness. Within, it was well lit, and a servant was peering out one of the front windows. Metellus alighted from the horse. As he was tying it and the donkey to a post, the door opened and Rachel ran out to meet them, followed by Lazarus. Lazarus pulled Samuel from the horse and held him in his arms. The boy began to sniffle.
“Oh, Samuel!” Rachel, too, threw her arms around him. Lazarus straightened to look gratefully at Metellus.
“Thank you for returning my son to me.”
“Come in, Metellus,” Samuel said, pulling away from Rachel and scrubbing impatiently at the tears on his face. “You said you would show me your sword!”
Metellus hesitated, looking at Rachel. She avoided his eyes and walked into the house.
“Please come in, and have some refreshment,” Lazarus said, smiling.
“Thank you, but I am not hungry.” Metellus went into the house, and Lazarus led him into one of the front rooms, where Rachel was already sitting. Oil lamps burned brightly on tall stands throughout the room.
Rachel’s hands were shaking and she folded them tightly in her lap. Her mantle hung forgotten across her shoulders, and her tousled hair swept across it. She watched as Metellus unsheathed his sword and held it out for Samuel to examine. Taking it so that it lay flat against his upraised hands, Metellus allowed the boy to try to lift it by its hilt.
“It’s heavy!” Samuel exclaimed, struggling, and Metellus helped him.
“And sharp,” Metellus said. “It is not a toy, Samuel. It should only be used by soldiers, or by someone forced to defend himself.”
“Samuel, I’m sure you’re hungry,” Lazarus said, as the boy continued to admire the sword.
“I’ve already eaten—but I’m still hungry!”
“Go to the kitchen—Benjamin’s cook was making something for you to eat when you returned.”
“Thank you,” Samuel said to Metellus, who replaced the sword in its sheathe.
“Benjamin is out tending to some of the injured,” Lazarus said, when Samuel had left the room. “I came to Jerusalem as soon as I realized what must have happened to Rachel and my son. I thought perhaps they had come here. Can you tell us what happened?”
“Some priests were killed at the Temple.”
Lazarus frowned. “Assassins? Was this something to do with what you told me about?”
Metellus saw that Rachel made a subtle movement of surprise. He answered, “I assume that James told you the plot had been abandoned, but, from what I understand, a lone member of the Sicarii was not happy about it. He attacked some priests, and has been arrested. The commander at the Antonia has put out an order that no one is allowed in the streets…until further notice.”
“I must get word to Judith that we are all safe.”
“I can go to her. I have a pass.”
“Perhaps you could escort us all home.”
“Tomorrow, perhaps, or when I think it’s safe. As you can see, things are very unsettled just now. But I will go to your wife tonight.”
Rachel stared at Metellus, and found her voice. “What is this about a plot? Do you mean our friend, James?”
Metellus hesitated, and it was Lazarus who answered. “Metellus came to see me a few days ago, Rachel, while you were away. He asked me to tell you. I meant to, but you only returned yesterday, and I—couldn’t seem to find the words. I meant to tell you today. Forgive me, both of you.”
They both looked at him somberly. He went on, “Metellus also told me that there had been a plot… to kill James and some of our other Christian friends. Thankfully, that plot no longer exists.”
Rachel’s head was still reeling, as she tried to make sense of Metellus’ presence. “But you weren’t even here. How did you know there was a plot?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “I learned of it, and I came to…give a warning.”
“Did you have anything to do with putting an end to these plans?” Lazarus asked.
Metellus gave a slight shrug. “It was a combined effort. I think it was successful, but I would still take care during the next few weeks.”
A silence fell. Metellus let his eyes stray to Rachel’s…and they could not look away from each other.
Lazarus cleared his throat and stood. “I’m going to talk to Samuel.” Before leaving the room, he laid his hand for a moment on Metellus’ shoulder. “Tell her—about yourself. James told me.”
At first, Rachel didn’t seem to hear. She asked, in a low voice, “Is that the only reason you came back, Metellus?”
He got slowly to his feet. “No.” For a moment he didn’t know what to say. She remained sitting, staring at him. He couldn’t read her face…she simply looked dazed, and confused.
“I heard you are going to marry Benjamin,” he said at last, and knew even as he spoke that it was the wrong thing to say.
Her gaze lowered and her hands moved to clench the sides of the chair. She gave the slightest nod.
At last he walked toward her. He put out his hand and took one of her own, so that she was compelled to rise. She kept her eyes averted, and was so distant that he took a step backward.
“Rachel,” he said gently, “what I did to you was unforgivable. But please believe that I meant it for your good. I came back to ask for your forgiveness. And to tell you that—I love you. More than I ever have, and I always will.”
She began to tremble. She raised her eyes to his and whispered, “Is that what Lazarus meant? What was it that James told him?”
Without seeming to, he took a deep breath. “James knew that—I have become a follower of Jesus Christ.”
Rachel’s head came up. She searched his face, and her own began to glow with relief and a deep happiness she could not conceal. But then, again, her brow furrowed with confusion, and this time she took a step backward.
“Metellus, you have no idea how I have prayed for this moment. But I—I have been seeking God’s will so earnestly, for so long. Perhaps I should have waited. I didn’t think you were coming back. I—I have promised to marry Benjamin.”
He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms…but that would not be fair. She was truly confused, and truly pained, for her eyes were filled with tears.
“Rachel, I only want to know one thing. Do you love me?”
Before she could answer, the door opened and Benjamin walked in. He swung off his light cloak and draped it over a rack near the door. He drew himself up abruptly when he saw them, his eyes moving from one to the other.
“Rachel, my dear,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“I—it’s difficult to explain,” she answered, her thoughts floundering. “Samuel and I were caught up in the crowd this afternoon. And Lazarus came looking for us—he and Samuel are in the kitchen.”
“Tribune,” he said, by way of greeting, and came further into the room. His unspoken question hovered in the air.
“I came to speak with Rachel, and I have done so.” Metellus looked at Rachel. “Will you answer my question?”
“You are not being fair to me, Metellus. I cannot answer your question now.”
“Cannot, or will not?”
Rachel raised her chin. “I will not answer.”
“Very well. Benjamin, if I have not been fair to her, I hope I will be so to you. I came here to tell Rachel that I still love her. I left her once, for a reason that no longer exists. I want to marry her. I don’t believe you have yet exchanged vows.”
Benjamin’s penetrating dark eyes met hers. “We have not exchanged vows, but she has agreed to marry me. Rachel knows how much I love her. She has been seeking God’s will on this matter.”
“But without one important bit of knowledge. God knew, but she did not.”
“And what is that?” Benjamin asked.
“That I am a Christian. Otherwise, I would not have come back.”
Something flickered in Benjamin’s eyes. “Forgive me, sir, but it would be a simple thing to say, in order to gain Rachel’s affection.”
“It would be simple,” Metellus answered coldly, “but an atrocious lie, if it were not so.”
“Of course he is a Christian!” Rachel’s voice shook with wrath. “I know him. I can look into his eyes, and know if he is lying. He would not lie about such a thing.”
Benjamin lifted his brow. Again he looked from one to the other. “Then I believe, Rachel, that you have a decision to make.”
CHAPTER XXV
Scudding clouds permitted only a sliver of the moon to show its face on his lonely ride to Bethany. He took Huldah with him, and left her in the stable after making sure there was plenty of water and food. When he knocked on the door, Judith opened it and stared at him fearfully, no doubt wondering why he had come…and not her family.
“Be at ease,” he said. “They are all safe. But they cannot leave the city until the commander rescinds his order. Anyone in the streets may be in danger.”
“Oh, bless you, Metellus! Come in and rest. You are welcome to stay the night.”
“Thank you, Judith. It is so short a distance, I will return tonight. Is there anything you need?”
“No. But where are they?”
“They are staying at Benjamin’s house. There’s no need to worry.”
The journey back to Jerusalem was no less dark and lonely. Metellus kept remembering Rachel’s stricken face, her shaking voice, as she told him goodbye. Or rather, she had not actually told him goodbye. She had said only: “I must have time…to think, and pray.”
He had already prayed, before going to her, and he wasn’t inclined to pray any more about it. He supposed that was the wrong attitude…even though he felt he knew the answer, he could at least pray that Rachel would find the right answer. He still had much to learn! He understood how confused she must be, for obviously she had believed it was God’s will for her to marry Benjamin. Did God change his mind? Of course not, he thought…Rachel had simply not waited for God, or him, even though she thought she was doing the right thing. Surely God had held her back, told her to wait…
It occurred to him that, perhaps, Rachel was meant to marry Benjamin. But that made no sense to him, because he and Rachel loved each other, and he felt sure she didn’t love Benjamin. Or did she love him, in a different way? He began to feel confused, himself, and irritated. He was tired…he needed sleep.
When he passed Benjamin’s house again, there were no lights within and all was quiet. The entire city was strangely silent, with the occasional clatter of hoof beats on the pavement, or the footfalls of patrolling soldiers. He was stopped a few times, but most of them knew him, and he had the pass Drusus had written for him. He went on to the fortress, left his horse in the stable and entered the praetorium. Lysias still had not returned. It was late, and there were only a few lamps glowing. He thought about seeking out the commander, to discover exactly what had transpired that day, but found he didn’t much care at the moment. He had other things on his mind.
* * * *
Megara glanced approvingly at the cloudless morning sky outside her window. The guard she had summoned waited expectantly.
“I’m going to the house of Benjamin, the physician,” she said, turning toward him. “I shall want a litter, and please see that the slaves are properly trained! I don’t want to pitch and roll all the way there.”
“My lady, there are still bands of people here and there in the streets. We’re attempting to clear them all. I don’t think that—”
“My husband has given me permission to go. He is sending several soldiers with me. I must see someone—I’ve waited long enough.”
Yes, she thought, I’ve waited long enough. She wanted to speak with Rachel before she left Jerusalem, and it was a perfect day…no traffic in the streets, no noise, no wondering if she would be attacked by Zealots. She had probably never been as safe in her life. It had been easy to convince Drusus to let her go, but she hoped she didn’t encounter Lysias on the way out, for he would probably try to stop her. Not that he could.
As she passed one of the reception rooms downstairs, she could hear Lysias and Metellus talking inside. She swept past without a pause and went down the steps of the portico, where a heavily curtained litter awaited her. A small detachment of soldiers surrounded it as the slaves lifted the shafts to their shoulders, and she saw with relief that it seemed she would have a steady ride.
There was time to grow nervous as they progressed down the street. She didn’t know why it was so important for her to talk to Rachel. But she had wanted to for a long time, and now it was going to happen. Once she had made up her mind about something, she was not easily deterred. Rachel might rebuke her again, might even spit in her face, but that was a chance she was willing to take.
A sudden jarring of the litter caused her to clutch at the arm rests. It dipped dangerously close to the ground before it was caught again. At the same time there were strange scuffling sounds…shouts, and grunts. Megara shrank against the back of the couch, her heart beating furiously. More shouts, and the clashing of weapons filled her ears. Then, silence.
The curtain was flung violently aside. Megara saw the terrified faces of the slaves, still supporting the litter. Her gaze lowered to the soldiers lying on the street, bleeding. She saw several men in robes with knives in their hands, and one sweating, vicious face glaring at her.
“Whoever you are, you must be important,” he said, looking quickly to left and right. “Who are you?”
Megara set her trembling chin. “I am the wife of the deputy procurator, and if you—”
He cut her off with a few foul words. He turned toward the other men. “We wanted a priest, but she will do even better. You there, put that litter on the ground. Listen well, and carry these words back to the fortress.”
Megara felt the litter lowering shakily to the ground. The man reached in for her arm and jerked her out. She got to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster, and then looked with horror at the dead soldiers on the ground. A black cloak was thrown around her, hiding the scarlet of her gown. A kerchief was tied over her mouth, and the cloak drawn forward to cover her face.
It couldn’t be happening! She was surrounded by at least six men…one for every soldier they had killed. The four slaves stood perfectly still, afraid to move. They were the last thing she saw before she was pushed forward and forced to walk alongside the men, who were moving rapidly toward the lower city, down side streets and alleys. The guards at the city gate were already dead, their throats slashed. Megara struggled to keep from fainting with terror and thought, How did Lysias let this happen?
Horses had been tied outside the gate. She was drawn up roughly by the man who held her, and he didn’t care that her seating was precarious and she had nothing to hold onto but the black mane in front of her. Then, the horses were galloping wildly away into the Judean wilderness.
* * * *
Drusus Appius stared with shocked dismay at the slaves who stood before him. The one who spoke trembled, and his voice wavered.
“They said they would exchange her for the prisoner that was captured yesterday. They will wait for you outside the city. There will be a guide at the south gate. You may be accompanied by only one other person, but if they see more than one, the woman will die.” The slave gulped and added, “She will also die if you do not carry this out within one day.”
Drusus looked at the slave as if he were a snake, and dropped into a chair. Beside him stood Lysias, his face full of rage. Metellus stood next to the commander.
With a quick, furious gesture Lysias sent all the slaves and sentries from the room. “The Sicarii!” he shouted, beginning to p
ace up and down. “Six of my men dead! We will not submit to these barbarians! Drusus, why did you allow your wife to go out today?”
Drusus looked up. “I thought the streets would be safe! This is your fault, Lysias!”
The commander’s face turned redder. “My orders were that no one was to be in the streets! You and your superior have withdrawn half my men to Caesarea—how can I be expected to maintain control over this city?”
“Lysias, calm yourself,” Metellus said. “This is going to require careful planning. Megara’s life is at stake.”
Lysias glared at him and resumed pacing, but grew quiet. After a moment, he said to Drusus, “I will go with you to make the exchange. We will have a company of soldiers not far behind. I intend to utterly destroy them!”
“But you don’t know how many—” Drusus began.
“It does not matter how many there are—they are no match for Rome!”
Metellus said quietly, “You are the commander, Lysias, and I don’t presume to interfere. But is this the wisest course? They have said that if they see more than two, they will kill her.”
“Do you think they are going to let her live?” Lysias’ voice was harsh. “She is dead already.”
“You cannot be certain of that. Perhaps they are willing to make the exchange. This prisoner may be important to them.”
“Metellus, I would like to save Megara. But you know as well as I do that there is little chance of that!”
A silence fell. Drusus began shaking his head. “I cannot do it,” he muttered. “I cannot go.”
Both men looked at him.
“What do you mean?” Lysias demanded. “She is your wife!”
Drusus only shook his head. “They will kill me. Megara was only a way to get to me.”
Lysias stared at him with such contempt that Drusus had to drop his gaze. There was another silence, until Metellus spoke.
“I will go in his place. No one knows what Drusus looks like. He has not been here long, and as far as I can see, never goes out.”