[Betrayed 01.0] 30 Pieces of Silver

by Carolyn McCray

  But at this, Jesus smiled. “That is where we made our miscalculation. I had thought John remiss for reaching out to the people themselves and eschewing the priests, but I see now how wise he was.”

  Thomas stirred from his writing. “And he has gained the Romans’ ire for it. Throngs flock to him wherever he appears, so they have a legion of their stoutest centurions following as well.”

  “In all the time in the desert, the one thing God did not tell me was that spreading his love would be a simple task. It is to the people we must embark.” Jesus’ eyes lit up. “Just like these children, I will embrace them to my bosom.”

  Andrew shook his head. “But they are not learned. They understood nothing of your words.”

  “Ah, but they listened, dear Andrew, they listened!” Jesus laughed aloud, then sobered. “Did a single rabbi heed a word I uttered?”

  Andrew could not retort, for Jesus was right. His lessons of love flew in the face of their power. They seemed to care only how God’s word might favor them.

  Jesus continued, “Upon the start of the next week, we shall go north. We will fill our number with twelve disciples.” He inclined his head toward Magdalene. “Mary knows why she cannot be counted.”

  She nodded in agreement, but once Jesus’ eyes left her, Magdalene’s lips pinched. She might know the reason, but she did not seem to like it.

  Jesus did not appear to notice Mary’s unease either, for he continued, “Once full of health, we shall visit every village in Judea where I will hear their hearts so they might hear mine.”

  James sighed. It was clear that he did not think his concerns would sway his brother, but he seemed equally obliged to voice them. “I know you believe God will provide, sweet brother, but we have emptied our coffers. How will we travel for so long without work? How will we feed our families?”

  “For once I welcome you asking, James.” He nodded to Magdalene, who produced a large purse from the folds of her dress. Jesus opened the drawstring so that the silver coins glistened in the candlelight. “Magdalene has been kind enough to offer her dowry to our ministry.”

  All were speechless as James ran his fingers through the coins. “It is most generous, but within a year we will be once again reduced to paupers.”

  Jesus’ lips turned up, but in a sad smile. “I do not think we need to figure that far ahead.” Brightening, he grasped his brother’s shoulder. “This will see all of us through to Passover, will it not?”

  James’ eyes clouded as he went to take the purse, but Jesus withdrew the leather pouch.

  It was Magdalene who spoke. “James, you know I hold you above reproach.” She bowed her head to the other men. “As I do you all, but I have seen Judas barter with the villagers and Romans alike. He has no equal. To gain an entire cart of hay for a half copper was truly remarkable.”

  James went to retort, but Judas was quicker. “I could not take on such a responsibility. It has always been James’ place to care for the earnings and shall always be.”

  Jesus looked at both of them. “I have long burdened my brother with the upkeep of our household. It is time that he be able to follow his heart and study the Scriptures rather than our finances. Would you not welcome such a relief, James?”

  Judas was not so sure James agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment, but after Jesus’ impassioned speech, how could he contradict his brother? And now Judas was in the same quandary. How could he deny helping James?

  A warm smile spread across Jesus’ lips. “Then it is agreed.”

  Magdalene’s cheeks blushed as she passed the purse over to him. Judas had never held such a sum before. It weighed heavily in his hand, especially as the others looked upon him as if he were not worthy. But what could he do? No one disagreed long with Jesus. How could you think yourself better equipped to argue than the Son of God?

  “Well then, I should join your mother in the kitchen, or we might find ourselves without dessert,” Magdalene said as she rose.

  As she passed Jesus, her hand brushed against his knee in a most casual manner. Judas’ eyes darted to James. Was there an engagement between the two that he was not privy to? But James sharply shook his head. The other men did not seem to notice, so Judas made no issue of the touch. What happened between Jesus and Magdalene was a private matter.

  Once she was gone, James rose. “We have much to arrange if we leave within the week.”

  Andrew nodded. “I shall send word to John.”

  “The merchants are closed, but I shall assemble a register of foods we shall carry with us,” said Philip. He continued, “I do not wish to find ourselves on the wrong end of a bargain for grain as we did in Gamela.”

  The others made their exit, leaving only Jesus, James, and Judas. It was not that he thought himself such a familiar to linger with the brothers. It was just that Judas was loath to gain his feet in front of the others.

  After sitting so long, his right leg did not cooperate, and his rising was a most awkward sight. Even if he stumbled only a little, Judas felt the others judged him as weak. Their eyes were always questioning why Jesus had included one such as he in their esteemed rank. So Judas waited until he was certain that the men had gone before he braced himself, using the wall to help his ascent, but Jesus grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

  “Thank you,” Judas said, then quickly added, “for all the favors you have given.”

  James retorted as he exited, “I would not be so quick to thank, Judas.”

  What a strange thing to say, Judas thought. He had felt James beyond any petty feud they might have had, but when he turned to Jesus he could see in his friend’s eyes that James knew something he did not.

  “I now know why John said you would be the one to suffer the most.”

  Judas flinched at the Baptist’s name. He had tried so very hard to block the man’s prophecy from his mind.

  “I fear Ameil cannot accompany us for so long a journey,” Jesus added.

  Judas was quick to jump in. “I have a sum saved and can do small work along the way to pay his share and—”

  “No, no, Judas. We would all welcome the boy.”

  “Then I do not understand.”

  For once he could see the similarity between James and Jesus. Most commented on how Judas and Jesus seemed more brothers than those two, but with the look of true reluctance to speak, Jesus was nearly James’ twin.

  “Earlier this afternoon I went to see his father so I might apologize for returning his son so tardily.”

  “Ameil should not have troubled you with such things,” Judas mumbled.

  “Your nephew betrayed no confidence, Judas. He only said that he did not know why his father had shouted at you upon your return. I discerned the rest on my own.”

  “And because of that Kyle will not allow Ameil to join us?”

  “That and the fact that he feels the boy is too easily influenced.”

  Jesus had that effect. His words swallowed your heart whole and made it beat all the stronger. Once emboldened, one could not keep one’s affections hidden. “Kyle still should not have been so presumptuous to you.”

  Jesus seemed confused, then laughed. “Dear Judas, he was not resentful of me, but of you. He feels Ameil treats you more like a father than he, and he fears if you spend a season alone with him that Kyle will lose him forever.”

  To this Judas could not argue. He and Ameil had forged a strong bond. So strong that he found himself bitter that they would now be separated. Jesus must have seen the transformation in his face.

  “No one would blame you if you chose not to join us. The rest have the luxury of having their families follow in our footsteps. I know how divided your heart must be, and I would not force such a painful choice upon you.”

  Even though Jesus’ words were kind, Judas could not help but wonder why the Savior had made certain to name him as one of the rarified Twelve and honor him with tending the ministry’s purse before telling him of Ameil. It seemed Jesus meant to stren
gthen his sense of duty to equal that to his nephew.

  “The boy…” Judas could not even finish his sentence. How had the child become so important to him? Ameil was not even from his loins, yet his heart ached at the thought of leaving him behind. Who would Judas teach to braid horsehair so tightly that you could use it as a lash for a scabbard? Whose silly, boyish antics would he laugh at each afternoon?

  “I will leave you with this overnight, my friend.”

  Jesus went to exit the room, but Judas held out the bag of coins.

  His friend frowned. “Will you give it no more consideration?”

  Judas could only shake his head. At once it was an impossible decision, and yet one so easy to make. Jesus was a grown man. He had the full blessing of God upon his head. How could the Savior need him as Ameil did? For it was Judas who fathered the child. It did not matter that they shared only diluted blood. Ameil was as much Judas’ as Kyle’s. He could not abandon the child to follow Jesus, no matter how his heart wished it so.

  He closed his friend’s fingers over the leather drawstrings. “Andrew will make an excellent keeper of the purse, Jesus. James will not fret if you choose Andrew instead, and I think the others might be happier as well.”

  “Not Magdalene,” Jesus said. “She holds you in great esteem.”

  “Perhaps, but I think she will understand best that Ameil needs me.”

  Without further argument Jesus left the room. Judas was at the same time relieved that his friend had not tried harder to tempt him, but also sad that Jesus could so easily part. His assessment was correct, then.

  As he had feared for so long, the Savior had little need of Judas’ company.

  CHAPTER 14

  Underground tunnels beneath Budapest

  As they made their way through an especially low tunnel, Brandt’s legs cramped at the slow pace and cool air. What should have been a brisk walk back to the underground chapel of St. Matthias Church had turned into an arduous trek.

  It turned out that their tourist map only gave a vague impression of Budapest’s labyrinth, rather than a representation of their actual conformation. Since this vast network of tunnels was off-limits to the public, there were no signs to warn them of the dozens of switchbacks, dead ends, and double cul-de-sacs.

  The green glow of their chemical sticks cast an eerie glow on the textured walls. Formed over centuries of dribbling mineral water, every wall had a unique pattern. Some looked as if an artist had used a paintbrush to swirl the rock into seashell patterns, while others were marred like they had survived smallpox. Another appeared feathered and gnarled, similar to a coral reef only without being underwater. There were more than fifteen distinct types of patterns displayed in this cave system.

  Or at least that’s what Lopez’s guidebook said.

  For Brandt, these tunnels were nothing more than a means to an end. And the sooner they were out of the damp, unnaturally cool air, the better. A leather skirt was not exactly comfortable in fifty-two-degree weather.

  On point, Svengurd had done his best to utilize the map and his compass, but advancement was slow at best. Between the cramped quarters and undocumented switchbacks, they had lost almost an hour.

  An hour during which Rebecca might have been tortured or worse. But there was simply no hurrying this process along. Svengurd had slowed them to a crawl so they could study the smooth tunnel walls. Through trial and error they had realized that the manner in which the spring water dribbled down the limestone walls held clues to where the tunnel was leading. Rivulets deep into the stone usually meant they were on a major artery, while walls that were only dewy with moisture were more often than not dead ends.

  The burgeoning number of stalactites and stalagmites had also slowed them. There was a reason these tunnels were restricted. The floor, slick with mineral water, was treacherous, and the sharp rocks jutted into their path, making steady movement tricky.

  Even at such a slow pace, Brandt nearly ran into Davidson as the tunnel was plunged into darkness. Someone must have covered his glow stick.

  “Svengurd has spotted a source of illumination up ahead.”

  Wordlessly, Brandt exchanged places with the private and pulled up alongside Svengurd. “You saw something?”

  The tall man pointed to a distant spot. “Up ahead.”

  Brandt squinted, but couldn’t see anything.

  “Shut your eyes, Sarge.”

  He did as instructed, letting his eyes readjust to darkness, then slowly opened his lids. There it was. A pinpoint of light far ahead.

  “Does it match the map?” he asked.

  Svengurd nodded. “As best as I can tell with this POS.”

  “I’ll take point,” Brandt stated, but Svengurd stepped in front of him.

  The corporal said nothing, but let his action speak for him. Brandt was suggesting a serious breach in protocol. Svengurd had always been point and Brandt guessed until Svengurd died he intended to be point. It was by far the most dangerous position on the team.

  Being the first into unknown situations usually ended up with you taking the first few rounds, but Svengurd thirsted for the opportunity. Frankly, the guy had the balls for it. He advanced without hesitation, using his surgical accuracy to clear the way for himself and the rest of the team.

  “We’ve got limited ammo.” Brandt tried to justify his actions.

  “All the more reason for me to head out and do some recon before we commit our resources.”

  Brandt usually encouraged his men to give their unedited input, but he could feel himself resenting the corporal’s objection. Probably because he was right. Brandt was letting this get personal. Letting his fear for Rebecca’s safety override his years of training.

  Hissing out his held breath, Brandt gave in. “Take point.”

  The corporal was three steps out before the order was fully given, becoming nothing more than a blurry shadow. Svengurd’s advancement could only be measured by his body blocking the tiny pinpoint light, then revealing it. Then the shadow was gone and the light flickered unobstructed. Svengurd must have rounded the corner.

  Brandt counted off the seconds. Each one pounded against his skull.

  “How long do we wait?” Lopez asked.

  “How long would you want us to wait if you were out there?”

  “All right. I’m getting comfortable, then.”

  * * *

  Lochum followed Bartholomew into the abandoned worship hall. Rebecca had fallen a few steps behind as she continued to work on her laptop. The girl would have so much more to work on once they were privy to the information within the Aron Kodesh. He could feel his saliva glands pump out their secretions. He thought himself a true gentleman, but he was close to frothing at the mouth.

  To think of all the times he had visited this synagogue. Never once had it occurred to him to study the architecture or study the murals. How many of the answers to his questions were within an arm’s length?

  The rabbi stopped at a wall to the right of the altar, which was traditional, for the Ark was always built so that it faced Jerusalem.

  After a moment of hesitation, Bart pulled out a large key. It was wider than the span of a man’s hand and apparently heavy. The rabbi had to use both hands to steady the key as he raised it to the lock. The key was fashioned out of iron in the shape of the Hebrew number five, representing the five books of the Torah. Lochum knew all of this from years of study but had never experienced the thrill of seeing one in use.

  Bart turned to Rebecca. “I am sorry, and I know it should not matter given the sacrilege we are about to commit, but by Orthodox tradition…”

  She nodded. Lochum’s old student was perfectly aware women were not allowed in the ark. He had taught her well.

  “I’ll sit up on the first pew. Just bring me the lettering, and I’ll start entering it,” Rebecca answered politely.

  “Thank you,” the rabbi said as he approached the lock. “If only you were so accommodating, Archibald.”

&
nbsp; Lochum snorted. “We would never have gotten this far if I allowed traditions to stop me.”

  Bart looked him up and down. “I will open the scrolls. I will point out the passages. You will look over my shoulder. In no way may you manipulate the scrolls in any way. Is that understood?”

  “But what if—”

  “There is no compromise in this, Lochum,” the rabbi said as he pulled on cotton gloves. “You may transcribe all that you see, but you may not touch the sacred documents. I could not sleep otherwise.”

  Putting his hands behind his back, the professor nodded. “I would not violate your trust, Bartholomew.”

  Lochum stepped back as the rabbi placed the key into the sunken lock. The purr of a motor sounded from behind the wall, and the engraved metal curtain rose, revealing two huge golden doors. The professor craned to look up. They must have been at least ten feet high. The entire golden surface was engraved with Hebrew symbols. He was so impressed that he almost called Rebecca over, but remembered his pledge to Bart.

  The rabbi hesitated as he pulled the key from the outer lock and placed it over the gilded inner lock. “People have been killed for these bones?”

  “Many, and many more to come, if we don’t bring them into the public’s consciousness,” he replied sincerely.

  With a sad nod, Bart placed the key into the glistening lock, and the towering gold doors swung open to expose a room far larger than Lochum had suspected, filled with rows upon rows of ancient Torahs.

  The professor had thought he would have been elated in this moment, but seeing the thousands upon thousands of documents, his heart sank. It would take more than a decade to sort through them all. Bart must have seen his despair, for the rabbi motioned him to the far end of the Ark.

  “Come, I have sorted them by date. The era you are interested in lies in this case.”

  They traveled to the far back of the room, where an etched glass box stood apart from the rest of the scrolls. Lochum recognized immediately that the container was climate and humidity controlled. These documents were not just sacred to the rabbi’s faith, but to the man himself.