Eetoo

by Robby Charters

  'Do you expect to see me?'

  'Do not the sages and diviners of the times say that this Passover is auspicious?'

  'Does not the house of Hanan ben Shet make every Passover a time of longing for the auspicious?'

  Mordecai paused. That last statement obviously meant more to him than it did to Tsaphar.

  'I've heard it said by both the p'rushim and Essenes that you do plan to be there this Passover,' he said. 'That, all by itself, makes it auspicious indeed!'

  'If I am there, I'm sure I'll see you. If I'm not, perhaps I won't,' said Hyrcanah as he saw him to the door.

  He shut it, and Tsaphar thought she detected a sigh of relief.

  8

  the pupils of the priestly rabbi

  each holding a neatly folded prayer shawl and t'ffilin

  walk together to their place of worship

  Reb Hyrcanah said he has to meet with someone who said they'd pop by with a message, then he'll join us for prayers at Beit Tsaddok synagogue. We're off with the three pupils that live with us, Philip, Nicanor and Alexander.

  We do this three times a day, but not always at the synagogue. Sometimes it's just the six of us or a few more if some of his other pupils are there. If there's ten men, it's a special time. We do it out loud. Sometimes he forgets he's not supposed to count me as part of the minyan. Once, I started to remind him, but he put his finger to his mouth to shush me up.

  We're only half a furlong to the synagogue. There are about five of us, including Tsaphar.

  'What are you packing for the trip?' asks Philip.

  'Everything,' says Alexander.

  'You reckon we won't be coming back here?' says Nicanor.

  'Yeah. King Messiah will need us there,' answers Alexander.

  'You sure it'll happen this Passover?' says Nicanor.

  'That's what everyone says,' says Philip.

  'Where is your faith?' says Alexander.

  There are at least three other synagogues along the way. I see people going into all of them. I know that in two of them, they say their prayers in Greek. They also teach the Torah in the way of the Greek wise men -- sophists, they call them. Most of the men at Beit Tsaddok don't approve of that.

  Nicanor says, 'There comes that man, Mordecai. What do you make of him?'

  I look up and see him coming the other way.

  Alexander answers him, 'He seems a nice chap. Asks a lot of questions though.'

  'He claims to be a merchant. What does he sell?'

  'I haven't seen him at the market at all,' says Philip.

  He's close to us now, fingering the hilt of his fancy dagger.

  'Join us for prayers?' calls Philip.

  He goes past like he didn't hear us.

  I say, 'He say he go to Yerushalayim for Passover.'

  'Will he be on the same ship, I wonder?' says Nicanor.

  'I hope not,' whispers Tsaphar.

  We've arrived at the synagogue. We kiss our hand and touch the mezuzah and go in.

  There's about a dozen men there already. They look at us, probably expecting to see Reb Hyrcanah.

  'The rabbi will be with us shortly,' says Alexander. 'He says if he's late, we should start without him.'

  They decide to wait a while.

  They're mostly talking about the trip to Yerushalayim for Passover. A lot of them are sons of Tsaddok, and some are wondering how it'll go, since they're officially not allowed in. Some of them think that there will be so many of us, no one can stop us.

  Someone calls for the prayers to begin. We pull our shawls over our head. Some of them tie the little straps about their arms and their head with the tiny boxes attached. Once they do that, they can't talk to anyone any more.

  We start with some of the prayers and psalms, and go into something they call the benedictions. For most of those, they pray quietly.

  I look about. Reb Hyrcanah still isn't here. I wonder what's keeping him?

  The benedictions are finished, and there are more prayers and songs. Soon they'll be saying the Shema.

  Some of the others are looking about. It's really not like Reb Hyrcanah to miss prayers.

  We're starting in on the Shema. The first line of it, we say loudly and clearly.

  We go into the rest of it.

  There are more prayers and benedictions. One of the men has to say the mourner's kaddish.

  We're finally finished.

  People are taking off their straps with the little boxes and we're taking off our shawls. Everyone's wondering what's keeping him.

  We start home.

  A few of the men from the synagogue are in front of us. They were going to pop in to talk about plans for the trip.

  I see the door. It's sitting half open.

  Hyrcanah doesn't usually leave the door open like that.

  Two of the men go in.

  One of them rushes out with a look on his face. His tunic is torn.

  'He's been murdered!'

  'What?'

  'G-d forbid!'

  'Yes! On the floor -- throat slit wide open!'

  * * *

  Orphans, all

  Things have been flying past my eyes so quickly I can't even think. It's like my mind is all numb. Everyone is that way, I think. If it weren't for Alexander, and Reb Shim'on, the synagogue president at Beit Tsaddok, we probably wouldn't have even got around to burying him. Everyone cries, 'We're orphans! We're orphans!'

  I sure feel like an orphan now.

  Everyone's got a tear in their tunic. A few even have ashes on their head. We're all in the main room of Hyrcanah's house. We all still sleep in the back room.

  Everyone's sure Reb Mordecai is the murderer. They sent for the authorities and gave a description of him, but he's disappeared. They searched the docks. There hadn't been any ships leaving during that time. They even sent men to overtake the last caravan, and he wasn't with them either. He might have had a very fast horse. They reckon he was an agent of King Herod Antipas, or someone.

  Yesterday was the day we should have left for Yerushalayim. We've missed the ship already so we'll have to go with a caravan. If it were up to most of us, we'd probably just sit about weeping, and forget about going. Alexander and Reb Shim'on are saying we must keep things on schedule. Messiah will come. Hyrcanah would have had us go no matter what.

  'What of a High Priest?' someone says.

  'Messiah will appoint a High Priest,' says Reb Shim'on.

  People are going about the house collecting things we should take.

  'Here's the Temple Scroll,' someone says. He picks up a giant scroll wrapped in a leather bag. 'We'd better take that. His family's kept it ever since we were driven out of the Holy City. Where are the other books?'

  'Over here, I think.'

  I remember I still have the rubbing and the old parchment next to my bed. I get up to fetch them.

  'Are they all there?' someone says.

  'Yes. The Torah, the Prophets, some of the the other writings, yes, all accounted for.'

  They don't miss the old Torah scroll. I guess most of them don't know about that. Alexander says I should just keep it since no one else can read it anyway.

  They've found some camel’s hair cloth Tsaphar and I can use for a tent. We'll also pack the sleeping mats we're using now. There's a big bag I can fit the scrolls in, and another one for the tent and bedding. Other than that, there's my pouch where I keep my metzig torch and my computer, and spare power cell.

  At last we're going to Yerushalayim.

  I don't know what's going to happen there though. How are we going to find the underground passages below the city? Reb Hyrcanah knew about everything. We were all set to go, but suddenly, he's dead, and we're left with nothing. We really are orphans!

  And now, no one but Tsaphar and I even know he ever found the sacred box, let alone where it is!

  We talk to Alexander about it. He knows what we're after.

  'No one but Reb Hyrcanah knows of the underground passages,' he says.
'What you must do is go to the temple and take your requests to Adonai. As a gentile, you can go to the Court of the Gentiles. Have faith in Him. He brought you here; He'll show you the golden tablets.'

  He sounds pretty confident. It's making me feel a bit better.

  9

  Heptosh and Shan had been working flat out. At least Shan was bionic and didn't need as much rest. Heptosh had to get aside and catch some sleep, but every time he did, another problem would emerge.

  What was becoming more and more clear was that life, even on the newly available planets, wasn't going to be a paradise. Already, there were complaints.

  If only he had more help. The bionics had the know-how but were in poor working order. There were a few willing hands among the new arrivals, but they lacked the skill. Heptosh had to be on hand at every point to tell them where to put this and that.

  Besides the big tele-gates joining Thevsos and Nephtesh, there were the ones joining the main city square of Nephtesh with various other planets that were coming available.

  It was becoming clear that the one tele-gate from Thevsos wasn't enough. There were already riots taking place there, so it would only be a matter of time before the imperial authorities swooped down and put a stop to it, or worse yet, send a commando unit into Nephtesh.

  If they didn't process the newcomers quickly enough, the riots would spill over into Nephtesh. Some of the communities that were arriving weren't compatible with one another. At least here, there were different planets to separate them to.

  Even apart from that, they had to keep relocating the local gates to various places as each city and town began to fill up. One secret to keeping social order was to give everyone plenty of space.

  As far as locating new places to set up gates and moving them about, Heptosh was basically on his own. Shan was busy insuring that the newcomers didn't go hungry

  Food, there was, if they knew how to get at it. There was wild fruit, wild cows and sheep, wild grain, but the newcomers from the crowded under-city of Thevsos were neither farmers nor hunters. The local bionics were, but the best they could do with their failing bodies was to teach them.

  Shan was reprogramming them to teach the newcomers how to live and farm, and how to forage for existing food until their first harvest. The rest, he disabled.

  Neuryzh had made several trips carrying seed grain and other commodities. On his last trip, he apparently saw the plight Heptosh was in, so this time, he brought what he really needed, people.

  There were a few experts in managing people, plus a few who were willing to be managed, and speakers of the languages. Among them were some of Heptosh's neighbours, Rav and Shav, and even Tsim, along with a few professional people from the village, including Doctor Taknen, and Rov the tinker.

  Shav reported that Nakham was busy minding Eetoo's sheep.

  10

  a train of camels, donkeys, horses

  people on foot, a few carts

  crossing desert sand and rock

  Roman soldiers lead the way and take up the rear

  We're on our way. Philip, Nicanor, Alexander, Tsaphar and I have a donkey between us to carry our things. Sometimes we take turns riding it, but that means the rest have to carry something to lighten its load, so mostly we just walk. My bottom gets sore when I ride long distances anyway. One of the others in our group lets Tsaphar take turns with his wife riding their donkey, but she's usually glad to get back on her feet again.

  There are soldiers going along as well. They say that's usual for this rout because there's lots of robbers along the way. No one in their right mind would travel by themselves.

  If Reb Mordecai did it, I'm wondering how. Alexander thinks he rode real fast until he caught up with the previous day's caravan.

  He says there aren't as many soldiers in this one as they normally have. I hope there won't be any trouble.

  It's evening now. Daytime is scorching hot, but at night it gets cold! There's hardly anything to see, but the ocean once in a while.

  The caravan's stopping for the night. About time! We're both aching all over.

  This looks like an oasis.

  The leader of the caravan comes around to show us each a place to pitch a tent, or put down a bed roll. The group of us from Beit Tsaddok get together and eat our meal. They brought food, and we fill our water bags at the well in middle of the oasis.

  There's another caravan here going the other way. Philip says they always try to make it to this oasis on each trip. There are locals selling things here as well.

  We talk about what we'll do in Yerushalayim. I still can't think of anything. Alexander keeps encouraging us to go to the Temple and pray. He's sure something will turn up.

  We're all still sad that Hyrcanah's dead. There's enough of us for a minyan, so we have prayers every time we stop. They all say the mourners kaddish. We talk about him a lot. Alexander is the one who keeps saying Messiah will triumph despite all the odds.

  We finally turn in. This tent is just big enough for Tsaphar and I to sleep in without getting too close together.

  We talk a while.

  Tsaphar misses home -- especially now that Hyrcanah is gone.

  So do I.

  ***

  There are noises outside. People are shouting.

  I hear sounds like knives hitting each other. Somebody yells as though they're hurt.

  I go to stick my head out.

  'Stay in!' says Tsaphar.

  I take her advice. We sit still, listening.

  The noise is getting closer. More people are yelling, like they're hurt.

  Oh! Adonai! Help us!

  Someone rips our door open. He's looking inside. He's got a fire torch in one hand, and a sword in the other that he's holding the door open with.

  Tsaphar is sitting there, frozen.

  He sees Tsaphar, and a wicked smile comes to his face. He sticks the end of his torch in the sand outside and starts to come in.

  What can we do?

  I feel about for something to hit him with.

  There's my bag. I reach my hand in.

  There's my metzig torch. That should make a dent in his head -- if I'm quick enough.

  I turn it on so I can see him better.

  It shines in his face. He screams and backs out real quick.

  I stick my head out.

  The man backs into his torch and his clothes catch fire.

  There are other men with swords running towards us. I shine the torch in their face. The man on fire is running past them. They hold their hand up and run the other way.

  Wow! I guess they've never seen anything so bright before!

  They yell at their friends and they all get on horses and camels and they're off.

  People are waking about, checking out the damage. A couple of soldiers are unhurt. The other three have been wounded. I think they're talking in Latin.

  Alexander says they're saying the gods were with us. Nicanor thinks it was an angel. Everyone thinks it's the light that set the man's clothes on fire.

  I think I'll keep quiet about the torch.

  * * *

  So far, nothing more has happened to us. Some more soldiers joined us at the next garrison town so now we're fully protected. They don't think anyone will dare to attack us now.

  We're now coming to a town called Yavneh, which is sort of on the outskirts of Yehudah. It'll be one more day's travel to Yerushalayim. They say this area is just as dangerous as the dessert where we were attacked.

  It'll soon be Shabbat, so we'll spend a whole day here before moving on the the city.

  Tsaphar seems a bit more confident now, ever since I scared the robbers off with the metzig torch.

  Some people look as though they would attack the soldiers if they could. Some of them look daggers at them.

  Others are trying to get to us to ask for money and handouts, but the soldiers are driving them away -- more daggers.

  The children are thin, some of them naked, and some of the adul
ts might as well be for all the holes in their clothes. This reminds me of the place under the brown mist in Thevsos. At least here, the air is clean.

  We're putting up at an inn. The richer travellers take rooms inside, but we'll camp out here where they keep the donkeys and camels.

  Alexander suggests that we go to the local synagogue for Shabbat prayers.

  We go as a group, with Shim'on leading. Since it's Shabbat, the beggars aren't allowed to bother us -- it's like, working. A lot of them go the synagogue though -- the ones who have clothes to wear, that is.

  Here at the centre of the town, the people are better off. You can see, by how they dress, how religious people are. A few of them are also on the way to prayers.

  Someone's coming the other way, very rich, by the way he's dressed, but different -- more like Reb Mordecai. He's got a couple of bodyguards.

  One of the religious looking blokes glares at him and spits as he passes. The man just smirks back.

  'Probably a tax collector,' says Alexander.

  The man and his bodyguards turn into one of the nicer houses.

  'Everyone hates them,' says Alexander. 'They work for the Romans, and get filthy rich off it. You'll never see them without their personal bodyguards, or if you do, you'll find them dead next time you turn around.'

  'For good reason too!' says a man walking near us. 'You see all the beggars? You know why the countryside's so full of robbers?' He's obviously very religious, the way he's dressed.

  'The Imperial taxes, I suppose,' says Nicanor.

  'Yes, and if that weren't enough to break one, these traitors collect double their share of it.'

  'I've heard that too,' says Alexander.

  'And if that weren't enough, there's one more thing.'

  'Which is...?'

  He gets close to us and says in a whisper, 'Our own Temple tax! Those pagans that run our Temple send their men to collect our tithes, our first fruits -- fruit or no fruit -- redemption of our first-born -- every bit as vicious as the Romans, they are! If people can't pay up, they lose their land. Then, they have no choice but to beg. By the time they realise there isn't enough charity to support a population of beggars, (if they aren't already dying from malnutrition) they do the only sensible thing: join the robber gangs.'