The Third Day

  We all wanted to rest, but we agreed to sleep in relays so that one of us would be up at all times. I volunteered for the graveyard shift – a term I hoped wouldn’t prove literal – and headed over to the sack, trusting that one of the others would wake me.

  Since the moon had risen just after the sun had set, we at least had a reliable clock, and about two in the morning, Lavon shook me awake.

  I ran in place for a few minutes to get my blood circulating and then wrapped a blanket around myself to ward off the chill.

  Then, I decided to call out on a lark. “Sharon, are you up?”

  Surprisingly, she was. For the past several hours, she had stared out her window, mulling over ideas to get away, each one more impractical than the last.

  Then she lit upon the craziest scheme of all.

  Her dormitory was located on the third floor of a three tiered complex, with her window facing toward the west.

  Under the illumination of the full moon, she could see that only a flat grassy lawn separated the central structure from the city’s outer wall, about twenty yards away. A set of stone steps lined the wall, which allowed soldiers to ascend to the parapet that ran along the top.

  A few hours earlier, she had observed a black-helmeted guard climb up in relief of the man stationed there. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, the new sentry had kicked his predecessor, who had evidently fallen asleep.

  The men, however, had exchanged no harsh words. Instead, the other soldier simply got up, grabbed what looked like a wine skin, and came trotting back down.

  This surprised her. She had always heard that the Roman penalty for sleeping on guard duty was death.

  I explained that this was true, but that these men were not legionnaires – and the more I thought about it, what she had seen made perfect sense. Trouble, if it came, would spring from the crowded city to the east.

  No robber bent on survival would try to scale a fifty foot wall when easier pickings lurked all around, and the presence of the legions ensured that no force capable of besieging the city could be found within hundreds of miles.

  The sentries on the western wall had nothing to do, and they knew it.

  I made the mistake of saying this to Sharon.

  “Then it’s worth a try,” she said.

  “Try what?” I asked, struggling to conceal my alarm over what might be coming next.

  “While the other girls were gone, I found a pile of blankets and tied them together, just in case. I hid them under my bed.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “The level below my window is only ten feet down. If I hang on to the ledge, the drop will only be about three more feet. I won’t get hurt.”

  “They’ll hear you.”

  “No, I don’t think so. Not if I do it right.”

  “You still won’t be on the ground.”

  “I’ll do the same thing, two more times, and once I’m on the ground, I won’t make any noise at all crossing the lawn. After I get to the wall, I’m certain I can climb up to the top without being seen.”

  “But that soldier is still there.”

  “I’ve been watching him. As soon as he got up to the platform, he started drinking, too. It’s harder to see over there now, but I can still make out a vague shape, sitting down and leaning against the wall. He’s either passed out or asleep. As soon as the moon sets completely, I’ll loop my blanket rope around one of the crenellations and head down the other side.”

  “That guard can’t be the only one.”

  “Any others are likely to be as drunk as this one. I’ll take my chances. I saw what those other girls had to do.”

  I could only think of one thing that might stop her. “The sun might rise before the moon completely sets. If that happens, you’ll be spotted for sure.”

  She hesitated, but only for a moment.

  “I’ll call you when I’m ready to go. You can look to the east and tell me if the sun has started to come up.”

  ***

  This was insane; though when she contacted me saying she was heading outside, I couldn’t bring myself to lie.

  The next hour was one of the longest of my life. Had I been prone to nail-chewing, I would have probably gnawed off my fingertips. As it was, I could only move a chair over by a window and sit facing east, watching for the first sliver of dawn.

  It came just as I heard Sharon’s voice.

  “I made it,” she said.

  “Thank God; where are you?”

  “Just outside the wall. I had a couple of scary instances when I wasn’t sure my knots would hold. For a moment, I thought I might end up splattered like Jezebel.”

  Like so many other names from the Bible, this one rang a bell, though I couldn’t place it.

  Sharon explained that the woman had been an Old Testament queen whose reign came to a gruesome end when her husband’s rivals tossed her onto the street from an upper story window, leaving her body to be devoured by the city’s stray dogs.

  “Why on earth would you remember that?”

  “That’s what the preacher called us if we went dancing – Jezebels. I suppose it was nicer than ‘whore.’”

  I didn’t quite see the connection, but it wasn’t time to ask.

  “Can you see where you’re going?” I said.

  “Only for a short distance, but the sky is getting brighter.”

  I had considered her options while she made her escape. I had run through the Kidron Ravine twice and had the scars to show for it. According to the topographical map back in Boston, the valleys to the southwest of town were just as deep, and equally likely to be overgrown with dense vegetation.

  “I’d hate for you to get lost in the scrub,” I said. “I think your best bet is to skirt around the wall to the north. Once you’ve done that, make for the Antonia’s side gate, the one that Robert and the others went through after their baths. When you get close, we’ll go down and see if we can convince the Roman sentry to let you in.”

  She agreed, and for a few minutes, she eased along in the dim glimmer of dawn.

  But her luck did not hold.

  “I hear soldiers coming,” she said. “Yesterday, I saw some caves off to the west, so I’m going to hide in one of them.”

  As long as the men were Romans, I thought she could bluff it out and continue around the city wall, but she had already started in the other direction.

  She followed a rabbit’s warren of trails until she spotted a small opening and went inside.

  “I can’t see much,” she said. “I can feel a rock ledge here in the back, though. So I’m going to sit down for a minute.”

  I waited for her to give me a status update, but except for soft, steady breathing, that was the last I heard. She had stayed up all night, and the adrenalin rush of her escape had quickly worn off.

  “Sharon, wake up!” I called out.

  She didn’t respond.

  Her earpiece had most likely fallen out. There was nothing else I could do.

  Chapter 41

  The Antonia quickly came to life as the sun’s rays broke over the eastern horizon. I woke Lavon and Bryson, but I barely had time to explain what Sharon had done before a servant entered our quarters and summoned me.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “The prefect has need of your assistance,” the man replied after Lavon had translated my question.

  I grabbed what remained of my first aid supplies and headed toward the door, with the others in tow.

  “No,” said the slave, “only you.”

  I tapped my ear to remind Lavon to stay connected and then followed the man all the way to ground level. From there, he led me through a maze of tunnels until we reached a spacious, if rather Spartan office.

  Pilate sat behind a wooden table covered with scraps of papyrus, a few scrolls, and a half eaten chunk of bread sitting beside a bowl of olive oil. Volusus and Publius sat on stools on the other side, while four junior Roman officers stood at ease again
st the nearby wall.

  Two scribes, pens and inkpots in hand, waited at the far end, ready to take dictation.

  Pilate looked up from his papers as I entered the room. I nodded my head in kind of a quasi-bow and then stood still, wondering what this was all about.

  Though I only learned the details later, the governor had fallen off his horse on his way into the city the day before – something quite easy to do in the era before the invention of the stirrup.

  Not wanting to show weakness in front of the soldiers, he had ignored the cut in his left instep; but now it was becoming infected.

  Pilate barked an order to a servant who rushed over with a stool. He then plopped his leg up on the support and beckoned me to come over and have a look.

  Other than starting to turn septic, the injury was not serious. Had he asked me to clean it yesterday, I could have done so easily. I still could today, though I’d have to scrape off some of the scab that had started to form.

  This would sting; and I suddenly realized I was working for a man who had no compunction against killing those who displeased him.

  I pantomimed my intentions as best I could, but Pilate just motioned for me to get on with it. I daubed some topical numbing cream and waited as long as I thought prudent before setting to work.

  He didn’t utter a peep, though I’d like to attribute this to my superior medical skill. In any event, just as I finished wrapping his foot with the last of my sterile gauze, a messenger ran in with a dispatch. Pilate took it, then sat back down and began to read.

  As he did so, I backed away and eased myself over toward the wall, hoping they wouldn’t think to send me out.

  They didn’t, for their minds had turned to more weighty matters. Whatever the dispatch said, I could see by Pilate’s face that it wasn’t good news. He laid the scroll down and then glanced up at the two senior Romans with more than a hint of exasperation.

  “Let’s get right to the point. I will not tolerate a disturbance like the one yesterday. Tell Caiaphas to crack down hard on any agitators. I mean it: show absolutely no mercy to troublemakers.”

  “Yes, excellency,” said Volusus.

  “And one more thing: if Caiaphas can’t do it, I’ll find someone who will. Make sure he understands that.”

  The commander nodded again and then turned to one of the secretaries, who scribbled a hasty note and then sped out through the office’s main entrance.

  This seemed to have a calming effect on the governor. He leaned back in his chair and then called for a slave to bring them more food.

  As they ate, he glanced down at his notes. “Of the prisoners you brought in yesterday, how many are still among us?” he asked.

  Volusus turned to one of the junior officers along the wall.

  “About half, excellency,” the man replied.

  Pilate chuckled. “I see Titus Labernius has not lost his touch. Did we learn anything we didn’t already know before they so tragically expired?”

  “Not really,” said Publius. “We got the names of their associates who got away, but otherwise, it was the usual stuff – doing God’s work by driving the infidel out of the holy city; that sort of thing.”

  “Did any of their leaders escape?” asked Pilate.

  “Two,” replied Publius. “We have agents looking for them now. Just so you’ll know, one of them is a priest.”

  “Irrelevant,” said Pilate. “Kill them both.”

  He spoke with all the emotion of a man ordering breakfast.

  “Yes, sir.” Publius signaled to the officer standing closest to the door, who turned and hustled out.

  Pilate shuffled through a few other scraps of papyrus.

  “Now, what about this prophet you told me about? Was he involved with these riots?”

  “Not to our knowledge, excellency,” said Volusus. “We have no reports of him being in the city yesterday.”

  “So he is not connected with these prisoners?”

  “Not really. Two of them confessed that they had followed him for a year, in Galilee. However, they grew disillusioned with his teaching and left his service. Now they consider him a – um, what is the word?”

  “Apostate,” said Publius. “A backslider; someone who does not devote himself to their God with the necessary resolve.”

  Pilate looked genuinely puzzled. “Why do they say this?”

  “Something about a failure to observe all of their silly rules, I’m told,” replied Volusus. “Apparently, he has also preached that they should love their enemies, and not try to kill them. They didn’t care much for that.”

  Pilate considered this for a moment. Then he held up a scroll and waved it at the commander.

  “This report says that he destroyed the Temple marketplace three days ago.”

  Volusus nodded. “Yes.”

  “An odd form of love, is it not?”

  Neither the commander nor Publius could muster a reply.

  After a brief moment, one of the officers along the wall spoke for the first time.

  “There may be some basis to this, sir. I’ve heard reports that he instructed the people to pay their taxes without complaint.”

  Pilate’s eyes widened. “A Jewish prophet telling them to pay us?”

  “That’s what they said.”

  Pilate shook his head. “Impossible. Your agents must have misunderstood. If this prophet said that, any following he had would melt away in an instant. I’ve been around this accursed country long enough to know that.”

  No one spoke as Pilate scanned a few more of the loose scraps. Evidently, he was still wrestling for a solution in his mind.

  He fished through the reports once more.

  “What’s this about a kingdom?”

  Volusus sighed. “So many wild stories surround this fellow. We’ve had a hard time sifting through them all to find the truth.

  “He hasn’t called himself a king, then?”

  Publius smiled. “Oh, I think his ambitions run much higher than that. Last night, I heard one of the high priests complain that he declared himself to be God – not a god, mind you, but the God, their one and only.”

  They all laughed for a moment; then Volusus turned serious.

  “If you want my assessment, I’d call him a mystic – one of these starry-eyed dreamers who pop up every now and then, preaching universal brotherhood, surrounded by fantastical tales of healing and miracles and food falling from the heavens.”

  “That was another reason the prisoners abandoned him,” said Publius. “If he had a kingdom, it was, how did they put it?”

  “Not of this world,” said Volusus.

  “If he gets enough of the wrong sort of followers, it will be,” grumbled Pilate.

  “True enough,” acknowledged Volusus, “but we’ve had our hands full this week fighting the bandits. And if this prophet had any followers on the Temple Mount when he assaulted the merchants, none of them chose to join in. We had to focus on our immediate priorities.”

  “Yes, of course. But here’s what I find so strange: you say in this report that he came back the next day and preached for over an hour. Yet the Temple authorities did nothing.”

  “We know he has sympathizers in the Sanhedrin,” said Publius, “but these are rational, educated men, not ignorant peasants chasing after the latest craze. They have as much to lose as we do from any serious trouble, which was another reason we chose to exercise caution.”

  Pilate didn’t reply. Instead, he stared ahead, lost in thought.

  “That may be,” he finally said, “but even if he has backers in their council, I find it hard to believe that he could destroy one of their biggest moneymakers and walk out untouched; not to mention coming back the next day and calling them – ”

  Pilate glanced down at the written report. “– ‘hypocrites, robbers of widows,’ and here’s my favorite – ‘whitewashed tombs, with their shiny exteriors concealing the rot and corruption within.’ Even with that provocation, they still failed to
act. Why?”

  Publius and Volusus glanced at each other but did not respond. They had asked themselves the same question without reaching an answer.

  “I’ll tell you why,” said Pilate. “They’re afraid of him. He may be waiting for the right moment to give the signal.”

  “We considered that,” said Publius, “but we have yet to uncover a single shred of evidence pointing to such a thing.”

  “No, but we have no guarantee that this is not his plan, either.”

  Pilate shuffled through more of his notes.

  “I recall a report, about a year ago, that said so many people crowded in to hear him preach that he had to hop on a boat and speak to them from off shore. These sheep can believe the most preposterous stuff, as you well know.”

  The others nodded as Pilate grew more animated.

  “And if he turns them against the high priests, do you think for a moment that they will not rise against us? At best, our careers will be ruined. We may, in fact, be lucky to escape this place with our lives.”

  “That’s true enough,” said Volusus.

  “What, exactly, do you want us to do?” asked Publius.

  “Arrest him.”

  “Unless he comes back to the Temple, the most difficult part will be finding him,” said Volusus. “Once we have his location, perhaps the safest course will be to do away with him quietly, out of the public eye.”

  Pilate looked down at the scrolls again; then shook his head.

  “No; it’s too late for that. If we fail to make a proper example of him, the mob will conclude either that we implicitly accept this conduct or that we are too weak to stop it.”

  “With all of the people in the city at the moment, if he truly is popular, then killing him openly could trigger the very uprising we’re trying to prevent,” argued Volusus.

  Pilate stayed quiet, lost in thought, as the groans of several prisoners came wafting through a corridor.

  “No, it won’t,” he finally said. “We’ll think of something.”

  Chapter 42

  I stood against the wall, so mesmerized with what I was hearing that I paid only limited attention to what was going on outside.