Fishers of Men

by Gerald N. Lund

  “A move that you would vigorously oppose.”

  “Normally, yes. But there is one small detail I have not shared with you as yet.” He paused, letting the moment build. “The person who has this information to sell to the Zealots and who wishes to strike an alliance with you goes by the name of Moshe Ya’abin.”

  If a stone had dropped through the roof at the moment, it would not have left the other three in the room more stunned. Simeon’s jaw went slack. Yehuda let out a single curse. Miriam rocked back, her eyes filled with horror. “No, Father!”

  He turned to her and smiled kindly. “Yes, Miriam. The very one.” Now his eyes went hard, and his voice became grim. “I have been searching for a way to reward our friend for interrupting our trip to the Galilee, but he is as slippery as the sands of Arabia. But in searching for his whereabouts, I came across this information—for which I have paid dearly,” he added.

  “Go on,” Simeon said. He was poised on the edge of his chair, every muscle in his body rigid.

  But it was Yehuda who broke in. “Ya’abin is too shrewd to take on the Romans. His way is to choose the weak and the unwary.”

  “That it is,” Mordechai agreed instantly. “And so he seeks to make an alliance with the Zealots, for you have the muscle and the nerve that he lacks.”

  Simeon’s eyes were angry. “The Zealots will have nothing to do with that snake. He is an adder waiting to strike.”

  Mordechai smiled sadly. “Somehow it is Ya’abin who has all the information on the movement of this Roman treasure.” He held out his hands, his voice bland. “Surely even you are not so naive as to believe that your fellow partners in rebellion will turn away from such an opportunity. Even if it means taking the adder into their bosoms.”

  Simeon gave a soft grunt. He turned and stared out the window, pressing his fingers together as he thought.

  Miriam’s father waited. Finally Simeon came back to him. “And your part in all of this?”

  “Ya’abin is shrewd. He would love to get his hands on some of those weapons too, but if he carries them back to Judea, he will have to move slowly and he will leave a clear trail. That is more risk than he is willing to take. So he plans to offer your people a simple trade. He will take half the gold and head south immediately on horseback, leaving the rest of the hoard to you to divide among yourselves.”

  Again Simeon nodded. Mordechai was right. Ya’abin was too shrewd to let himself become too vulnerable.

  There was a faint smile on the face of the wealthy Sadducee. It held both confidence and bitterness. “But let’s suppose that a small band of you, say one led by the famous Ha’keedohn, were to forgo the looting of the weapons and follow after Ya’abin . . . ” He stopped and sat back.

  Yehuda began to nod after a moment. “We get the money Ya’abin is carrying, which would be our reward for saving you and your daughter, and you get your revenge.”

  “I was confident that you could quickly see the implications of this situation.” Now again his voice went cold. “I don’t want you to kill him. Just take his share of the gold as your own and disarm him and his band. I’ll see to it from there.”

  “You’re going to bring the Romans in on it?” Simeon said softly.

  “The Jewish courts would never have the courage to convict a bandit like Ya’abin. He has too many friends with daggers in their tunics. But I think crucifixion would be a most fitting reward for a man of his nature, don’t you?”

  Miriam shivered. She still had nightmares about that day in front of her tent, and she too was eager to see the man responsible for it brought to justice—but crucifixion? It was a fiendish way to die. The Romans had perfected it to the point where a man could live for as long as five or six days on the cross, suffering horribly, gradually perishing from shock and thirst and loss of blood. This was a side of her father she had never seen before, and it frightened her how easily that word had fallen from his lips.

  “Ya’abin will not be sleeping, of course,” her father went on. “He will watch his back trail carefully. It will not be easy to surprise him.”

  “If it was easy,” Yehuda said dryly, “we assume you would have called on the children of Jerusalem to do it.”

  Miriam wanted to both laugh and scream at such bravado. They were like boys playing a game, each trying to show the other just how brave they could be. But what they were talking about was deadly and final if something went wrong.

  “I have nothing more to offer you in the way of help except for this information,” Mordechai said. “But I have absolute confidence in that information. If the price is right, even the most trusted of lieutenants can have their heads turned. When Gehazi calls you all together, Ya’abin will put forth his plan. Go along with it; then wait for your opportunity to strike. You shall have your vengeance—and a healthy cash reward as well—and I shall have mine.”

  “What?” Simeon said dryly. “No offer of a little gold now to entice us to accept your offer?”

  “Would you take it?” Mordechai shot right back.

  Simeon acknowledged that with a brief nod. “Thank you for not insulting us.”

  “We are not in agreement on how we save our country,” Mordechai said, “but I think we can agree on one thing. It is time for someone to crush the adder’s head. I have shown you where he shall be and how to do it. Now it is up to you.”

  Simeon got to his feet abruptly. “We thank you. Yehuda and I shall give this careful thought. If things prove to be as you have said, you shall have your revenge.”

  Mordechai stood as well. “If you would wait a moment, you can read Miriam’s summary of our meeting. Except for one thing. There shall be no names in the document. Not yours. Not Ya’abin’s. If any of this, even a whisper should leak out, it would be disastrous.”

  “We understand.”

  “Good. Once you see that the document is accurate, it will be sealed and put away for safekeeping.”

  “I have full confidence in your daughter’s record,” Simeon said.

  Miriam looked up quickly at that, but there was no sarcasm in his voice. For once it was a compliment without any hidden messages. She continued to write swiftly.

  “I am not sure how this protects you,” Yehuda said, standing to join them. “Why not just tell Pilate all of this and let him take Ya’abin for you?”

  Simeon had already seen down that road. “First, because Mordechai is not confident that the Romans can catch Ya’abin. They will be like a great ox chasing after a rabbit.”

  “A great and stupid ox sometimes,” Mordechai said bitterly.

  “And there’s something more,” Simeon said, watching Mordechai closely. “If we successfully steal the Roman gold and help ourselves to a cache of weapons such as Mordechai has described for us, Pilate will surely have to respond. And unless I have underestimated our benefactor here, Yehudah, Mordechai ben Uzziel hopes that the Roman eagle will swoop down and solve the problem of the Zealot rebels once and for all. Thus the Great Council in Jerusalem no longer has to worry about it.”

  Miriam, who was listening intently to all of this as she wrote furiously, gasped softly. She saw it the instant Simeon said it. That was exactly what her father was thinking. To her horror, her father only laughed. She heard the contempt in it, but there was also genuine respect for the young man who stood before him. “That would be a tragedy,” he said blandly, “but of course, you are willing to take that risk because a confrontation with Rome is exactly what you have been waiting for. Am I right?”

  Simeon looked over at Miriam. “If I have your word that your record of this meeting shall not be altered, Yehuda and I shall take our leave. There is much we have to consider.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath. “You have my word on that,” Mordechai hissed.

  “I do. If I have Miriam’s as well, then we shall be doubly sure.”

  She was staring at him, hardly believing what he had said and what that implied. “I will see to it,” she said.

  �
�Then shalom and farewell, Miriam of Jerusalem and Mordechai ben Uzziel. We shall drive Ya’abin into your clever snare, and we shall both be satisfied. As for the Zealots and Rome, that will play itself out as it will.”

  As Simeon and Yehuda were ushered out the gate and into the street, Yehuda turned to his leader. “You agreed to all of that pretty quickly, my friend. Are you sure we can trust this man?”

  “I am sure we can trust his motives, and make no mistake, he wants his revenge on Ya’abin. I don’t doubt that. His pride was struck pretty deep that day. But he’s worked this all out very carefully in his mind. He is not doing us a favor. He thinks this will destroy us.”

  “He does not know how strong we are,” Yehuda said. “Nor do the Romans. If we can unite all of the Zealot bands—and such an opportunity as this could finally be the thing that will unite us—we can field two thousand men or more.”

  “The fat ones who rule on the thrones of Jerusalem have lost all touch with the hearts of the people. So let them sit in their velvet halls and their marbled palaces and make their little plans. It is time, Yehuda, and as you say, this just could be the opportunity we have been waiting for.”

  Yehuda gave Simeon a long sidewards glance. “You seem particularly happy about this.”

  Simeon turned, grinning happily. “Yes. This is what we have been waiting for, Yehuda. This could be the spark that finally ignites us in a common cause. Even my father says that if the Zealots could unite, not even the Romans could stop us.”

  Yehuda was nodding. It was an optimistic outlook, but he felt that surge of excitement too. Mordechai was right. With the arms they would seize in this attack, the Zealots would finally be strong enough to take on even a full Roman legion in direct battle. And all it would take would be one victory, and the whole nation would unite behind them.

  Then he noticed that his friend was still grinning broadly. “There is more?”

  Simeon smiled thinly. “Let me ask you two questions, old friend. First, this Roman column will be of such significance, who do you suppose Pilate will choose to put in command?”

  Yehuda frowned; then suddenly he clapped his hands. “His most trusted officer, the Tribune Marcus Quadratus Didius.”

  “Second question. The road from Damascus to Caesarea passes directly through Capernaum. Who else would you expect to accompany that column?”

  “The centurion Sextus Rubrius,” Yehuda said, astonished that his friend had seen that far down the road so quickly.

  “Yes,” Simeon finished quietly. “Mordechai ben Uzziel will not be the only one who tastes the sweet honey of revenge out of all of this.”

  III

  25 May, a.d. 30

  “Mistress Miriam?”

  Miriam turned. Levi was standing at the door of the library. “Yes, Levi?”

  “There is a man at the gate of the courtyard. He requests an audience with you.”

  She laid down the scroll that she had been reading. “A man?”

  “Yes, Mistress Miriam. The Roman officer from Caesarea.”

  Miriam visibly started. “Really?”

  His face showed no expression, a trait that Levi had mastered many years before, long before he had become the chief steward. “Yes. He says he has a meeting with your father, but when I told him he had not returned home as yet, he asked if he might see you.”

  “I—” It surprised her how quickly her heart had started to flutter. She almost leaped up and raced across the room, but Levi’s face stopped her. She kept her face calm. “I shall see him in the courtyard. Livia is not here right now, so I would appreciate it if you or one of the other servants could be present, but at a discreet distance, of course.”

  “Of course,” he said, relieved now. “Very good.”

  “Show him into the courtyard. Tell him I shall be down shortly.”

  Levi bowed and backed out. Miriam stood still until the door shut again; then she exploded. She raced across the room, darted through the other door, and raced up the stairs to her bedroom, frantically deciding what would be the best thing to wear. She was glad that Livia was not here to chide her for her girlishness.

  IV

  “Why, Tribune Didius. What a surprise.”

  He smiled, and she saw that there was the faintest amusement hiding beneath the deep green of his eyes. “I thought it might be.”

  “I understand you are looking for my father.”

  He laughed softly. “Among others,” he said. Her eyes were drawn to the cleft in his chin, which made him seem so masculine and strong. That was one thing she liked about the Roman style. When a man kept his face clean-shaven, you could see all of his features clearly. And Marcus Didius had features that were very pleasing to look upon.

  “Please, come and sit down. Father should be back shortly.”

  She moved over to where the tiles ended and a series of octagonal stones provided a walkway into the garden. The meticulously designed and scrupulously maintained garden occupied the whole north half of the courtyard in front of Mordechai’s mansion. A few feet into it, beneath a fig tree, a three-tiered fountain caught the sunlight and filled the air with the soft sound of murmuring water.

  “How exquisite,” Marcus said, moving to the fountain and touching its marbled basins, which were sculpted into the soft lines of seashells.

  “You should like it. Father had it shipped in from Rome.”

  “Ah. Your father has a keen sense of the beautiful.”

  She cocked her head. “How do you know I did not pick it?”

  For the first time his calm assurance slipped a little. “I just assumed if he—”

  She laughed lightly. “He did. I’ve never been to Rome.”

  He smiled, realizing she had baited him just a little. He sat down on the marbled bench she had indicated, and she took a large wicker chair that faced him.

  “Would you like to go to Rome sometime?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes. They say it is wonderful.”

  He nodded gravely. “Whatever else people may say about Octavian Augustus, or Augustus Caesar as you would have called him, he did much to beautify our city, especially in the area around the Roman forum. He liked to boast that he found the city stone and left it marble.”

  “Father says it was so wondrous that he could scarcely believe it.”

  “Then we shall have to talk with Pilate about having you and your father invited to Rome by Tiberias.”

  Miriam had to stop her mouth from falling open.

  He smiled when he saw her expression. “Your father is making a great contribution to peace in this land, Miriam. Caesar is always appreciative of men like that.”

  The memory of yesterday’s meeting with Simeon and Yehuda popped into her mind. What would Pilate say if he knew about that? That gave her a chill, and she pushed it away.

  Marcus grew more thoughtful now. “Your father invited me to have supper with you again tonight, something I would very much like to do, but I have just received word that I am to return to Caesarea the moment I finish with your father.”

  Her face fell. “I promised to show you around the Upper City the last time you were here, remember?”

  “I remember well and was going to hold you to your word.” His shoulders lifted and fell in resignation. “Unfortunately, though I much prefer your company to that of our noble governor—” He shook a finger at her. “And don’t you ever dare mention that fact to him—duty is a merciless taskmaster.”

  “Then we shall just have to make it another time.” She smiled warmly. “I love all of Jerusalem, but this part of the city is marvelous, especially at night when there is a full moon, as there will be tonight.”

  “And I would consider it an honor to return the favor and show you Caesarea by day or by night.”

  “I would like that very much. I love that city.”

  Now he was suddenly businesslike. “I have news for you.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes. I located a slave hunter who has had a lot of d
ealings in Alexandria.”

  She leaned forward eagerly. “Really? Wonderful!”

  He shook his head. “Not so wonderful. He was able to locate the papers for the names that you gave me. The news is not good.”

  Miriam went very still. “What?”

  “The mother of your servant girl died within a year of her sale to her new master.”

  Her head dropped, and there was a hot burning behind her eyes. “And what of her father and younger brother?” she asked in a low voice.

  “Her father was sold to a shipowner who runs grain ships between Rome and Egypt. The ship the man was on ran aground off the coast of Cyprus last year. There were no survivors. As for the brother, who was twelve at the time, he was sold as a household slave to a family in Sicily. That is good.”

  “Good?” she cried, horrified to think how a family had been ripped apart because of the foolishness of their patron.

  He seemed a little surprised. “Yes. Household slaves are generally treated well. The slave hunter has sent off an inquiry to see if the boy is still with that household. There are some grounds for hope.”

  Suddenly ashamed for her outcry, she reached out and laid a hand on his. “Thank you, Marcus. You are right. The news is not good, but at least it is not all bad. And now Livia will know.”

  “So you will tell her?”

  She hadn’t considered doing anything else. “Shouldn’t I?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes the truth is more painful than not knowing.”

  Considering that, she finally shook her head. “I would rather know. Then I could put it behind me.”

  “She’s your servant.”

  “What was the charge?”

  “For what?”

  “The slave hunter. Surely he doesn’t make those inquiries for free.”

  He chuckled. “This one was a little strange. He said the only cost would be a walk in the moonlight in the Upper City of Jerusalem.”

  Her eyes widened; then she laughed lightly. “I don’t believe you.”

  He slapped his hand across his chest, a sign of making an oath. “That’s the truth. And he asked if I might collect the fee for him. I swear by the gods that—” He stopped, his face suddenly flustered. “Oh, I’m sorry.”