“So you’ve come as our benefactors?” Marcus sneered. “Do you think I don’t remember who you are, and how much cause you have to hate me?”
“That is past and has nothing to do with what is happening here,” David said calmly. Then more earnestly, he went on. “What are your choices? Mordechai is a clever man and a cunning one, but he made one major miscalculation. To this point, the various Zealot groups have been badly fragmented, unable to mount even a minor campaign where they might cooperate long enough to win success. Mordechai thought if he presented sufficient temptation, he could entice the Zealots to unite so you could fall upon them. And he was right. His problem, however, was that he thought there would be maybe four or five hundred men at best.”
Marcus was listening intently in spite of his determination to treat these two with utter contempt. They were right. Mordechai had told him that if the Zealots were able to muster five hundred men, it would be a miracle. With his own two hundred and fifty and three additional maniples lying in wait, they would outnumber them more than two to one.
David watched him, guessing what was going on in his mind. “Mordechai badly underestimated, Tribune. Currently there are over a thousand men waiting for you inside the pass.”
Marcus’s head came up very slowly. Then he turned to the other officers, who were watching this interchange with anxious and angry eyes, not sure what was happening. He spoke to them in Latin. “Rubrius, you stay. The rest of you get back to your men. Have them throw up a defensive perimeter around the train. Move!”
As they jumped to obey him, his anger flared again, and he swung back on the two Jews. “Do you think you can make us turn tail and run by coming in and scaring us with empty numbers? I could have you nailed to a cross and let your friends see what happens to men who think they can trifle with Rome.”
David turned to Sextus. His face was grave. “I give you my word, Sextus. We speak the truth. Even at this moment Gehazi is preparing to send men out to intercept your hidden maniples. They will not be able to stop them, but they will delay them long enough that there will be no help for you. Not before morning.”
Sextus nodded gravely.
“And,” Simeon came in, watching Sextus carefully, “you know as well as I that if the word gets out that we have a column of Romans pinned down here, people will pour out of the villages like ants from an anthill that has been kicked open. What is now a thousand will become two thousand, three thousand. You won’t stand a chance.”
“Why do you talk to my centurion?” Marcus exploded. “I am in command here.”
David turned slowly. “Because Sextus knows that what we say is true. I am a man of my word, Marcus Didius. Mordechai badly underestimated our capabilities. Don’t you make the same mistake.”
Rubrius looked at his commanding officer, his leathered face showing open concern. “David ben Joseph is a man of honor, sire. I cannot speak to what we should do in these circumstances, but if he says there are a thousand men, then—”
“Would you be a Jew, Rubrius?” But even as he lashed out at him, Marcus knew his centurion was right. Even he believed that David ben Joseph spoke the truth.
Simeon watched the man he had hated for so long and realized that he could put that hate aside. Simeon commanded men. He had faced terrible risks and made assessments of what it would take to conquer. Now he could think of this man in that role and feel sorry for him. “It would seem that you have three options at this point. Go ahead and enter the pass, knowing that no help will be forthcoming. If you do, you will be cut to pieces. Or you can choose to make a stand here.” He shook his head. “Your position is hardly a defensible one, Tribune. Or—”
“You lecture me on tactics?” Marcus shouted. “A Roman creates his own defensible position.”
“Or,” Simeon continued without reaction, “you can try to retreat, try to cut your way back through to Ptolemais, and see what it is like to have all of Galilee turn against you.”
Marcus stood there, his chest rising and falling, fighting back the rage so he could think clearly. “And you have some wonderful solution for us, I suppose.” It came out as bitter invective, but behind that there was also a question. These two had ridden into camp like conquering kings. They had something more in mind than they had told him so far.
“It’s simple,” David explained. “You surrender your arms immediately. Gehazi will withdraw from the pass and stand back half a mile away from this position so you can see, first, that he has the number of men we say he does, and second, that he has withdrawn.”
“You would have me stand and watch while my enemy surrounds me?”
“He won’t surround you,” Simeon said wearily, beginning to wonder if they were going to fail. “He’ll stand off to the north of the road. Go ahead and put up your defensive perimeter. Prepare anyway you like for the possibility of betrayal.”
“Half the wagons will be left here for Gehazi,” David said. “You take the other half with you and head for the pass.”
“Half!” Marcus roared. “Just like that? We’d like twenty wagons, sire, filled with arms, if you please. And thank you very much for your kindness.”
David went on, unruffled. “Gehazi was just as furious at that suggestion as you, Tribune. He is sure he can take them all.”
Marcus sniffed in disgust. “Ask for one wagon, and perhaps I shall consider your offer. Do you think we have no courage to face this fight?”
“No one questions your courage or that of your men,” David said sadly. “Will it take rivers of blood to prove that what is needed here is wisdom and not courage?”
Simeon went on quickly. “If you surrender your arms, we swear with an oath that you will be given safe passage through the pass and set free. We know that was your intent anyway, but this way you won’t have to lose any men doing it. As you know, Ya’abin is to get half the gold for his part in this. Gehazi has agreed to let him take all of it. He will be waiting in the pass to escort you down to the Plains of Sharon.”
“As you also know,” David came in, seeing that despite Marcus’s anger their words were having an impact on him, “Mordechai has arranged a little surprise for Ya’abin as well. He’ll walk straight into the arms of your governor, and none of the ten talents will be lost.”
Rubrius stepped forward. “If Gehazi is sending men out to intercept the other maniples, Pilate will not be able to get through to us.”
David turned. “We did not tell Gehazi about the third maniple. He knows only of the two on each flank.”
“You swear that?” Rubrius said, obviously caught by surprise by that announcement.
“I swear it,” David said evenly. “On my life.” Then he turned back to Marcus. “What will it be, Tribune? Gehazi knows about your little subterfuge with the wagon wheel. He is even now poised to sweep down upon you. Nail us to the cross. Delay us even another ten minutes and you will no longer have any choice.” He rubbed wearily at his eyes. “And many men will die here.”
“Pilate will have me on a cross if I give up twenty wagons filled with armaments,” Marcus said, half to himself.
“Better he lose twenty than forty,” Simeon shot back. “And he can save two hundred and fifty men in the bargain. Surely he won’t fault you for a choice like that.”
When there was no response, Simeon’s own anger flared. “Come on, Tribune! Those other maniples are not going to be here before morning. You don’t stand a chance.”
“Don’t throw your men into the fire as if they were worthless rags,” David pleaded.
For a long time Marcus was silent. Then he looked at David. “Ya’abin is set to escort us out of the pass?”
David felt a little thrill of exultation. Marcus was considering it. “Yes, just as originally planned.”
Marcus turned to Sextus Rubrius. “Centurion?”
Sextus seemed to have expected the question. “We can fight. We will fight; you know that. But they are right, sire. Our original intent was to surrender our arms and l
ure them into the trap. Now there is no trap.”
“Go on.”
The grizzled old veteran looked first at David, then at Simeon, and finally back at his commander. “I think if we try to make a stand, we will be annihilated.”
Marcus stood there for a long time, staring westward to where the sun was now low above the hills, throwing the entry to the Joknean Pass into deep shadow. At last he turned to David. “We will not surrender our weapons. We march through the pass with the twenty wagons and our own personal weapons.”
David and Simeon were both shaking their heads. “Gehazi will never agree to that,” David explained. “He’s already suspicious of this whole setup. You come marching in with your weapons and he’ll unleash everything he’s got against you.”
“And what if your word isn’t good enough?” Marcus said. “How do we know we won’t march into that pass and still be ambushed? If we are to be annihilated, I choose to do it with a sword in my hand.”
David nodded, sadly. “All I can give you is my word. Though Gehazi is your sworn enemy, he has made an oath. If you lay down your arms and leave him twenty wagons, you shall not be attacked in any way.”
Marcus looked at Sextus again. The centurion nodded briefly. He took a deep breath and made up his mind. “Agreed. Let’s get on with it.”
As David and Simeon turned and started for their horses, Simeon leaned in and whispered to his father. “I’m going to rejoin Yehuda and keep our band in place to watch that thief Ya’abin. We’ve got less than thirty men. The tribune will never notice if that many aren’t here.”
David nodded. What neither of them saw as they whispered to each other was that Marcus had moved up swiftly behind them. As they reached their horses, he whipped out a dagger from his belt and shoved it up against Simeon’s back. “Stand still, or you die!” he cried.
Simeon’s hands shot skyward.
Marcus threw an arm around his neck and pressed the dagger more tightly against Simeon’s tunic.
David looked on in dismay. “What is this?”
Marcus held Simeon tightly. “You ask that I accept your word in all of this, David ben Joseph, and so I shall. But I shall have more confidence that you will not betray me if I hold your son until we see this thing through.”
David’s face was stricken. “Is this how Romans honor their agreements?” he exclaimed.
“This is how we ensure that our agreements are honored,” Marcus hissed. “Now go!”
Simeon arched his back, trying to escape the prick of the dagger’s tip. “Go, Father. There’s no more time. I’ll be all right.”
David hesitated for only a moment, then swung up into the saddle. As he wheeled his horse and gave spur to it, Simeon half turned his head. “And when am I to be released, O noble tribune? When you deliver me to your governor as your apology for losing twenty wagons of arms?”
“What Pilate does with you when we have reached safety is not my concern. Now move.”
Simeon turned his head the other way. “Father!” It was a cry of agony and pain.
For the second time since he had come to the province of Judea, Marcus Didius made the mistake of letting his attention be diverted away from the second son of David ben Joseph, merchant of Capernaum. He turned to see if David had heard the cry. As he did so, Simeon lunged forward, breaking the grip around his neck. At the same instant, he swung both elbows back with all the force he could muster. They caught Marcus squarely in the ribs. If it had not been for his leather breastplate, he would have gone down with a punctured lung. As it was, he fell back, gasping for breath, arms extended, the dagger flying from his hand.
Swifter than the flight of an arrow, Simeon snatched the dagger up. He threw his foot behind the tribune’s legs and shoved hard. Marcus hit the ground with a heavy thud. Even as the men looking on reached for their swords, Simeon had the point of the dagger at Marcus’s throat. “Sextus! If anyone moves, the tribune dies.”
“Stand!” Sextus roared. But his sword came out, and he came forward a few steps.
“Again, Sextus?” Simeon asked softly. And then he forgot the centurion. He looked into Marcus’s eyes, his chest rising and falling as he took in deep breaths, fighting for control again. Marcus stared back at him, shock and fear twisting his face.
For several seconds time seemed suspended. Then reason slowly came back to Simeon’s eyes. “I would ask you a question, Tribune,” he said, panting heavily now.
Marcus didn’t move.
“Suppose I came to your family’s home in Rome. Suppose you couldn’t pay the price of the extortionists who levied your taxes. And suppose that I took your mother and your sister and sold them into slavery. Given the chance, what would you do to me?”
“I don’t have a sister.” He spit out the words through clenched teeth.
Simeon’s eyes widened in surprise. “And that’s your answer?”
Marcus shook his head a tiny fraction.
“What would you do?”
Defiance now filled Marcus’s face. “I would kill you,” he whispered. “I would kill you without hesitation.”
Simeon suddenly straightened. “Yes, you would, wouldn’t you.”
The dagger slipped from his hands and plopped softly in the dust. “Do what you will, Marcus Didius. I am going with my father.”
Without haste he walked to the horse and took the reins in his hand. Marcus scrambled to his feet, snatching up the dagger again. Sextus leaped forward to stand beside him, but Marcus did not move.
“I can take him!” cried one of the bowmen, sighting down the shaft at Simeon’s back.
Marcus didn’t turn but only held up a hand. Simeon grabbed the saddle horn and leaped aboard as the horse shot forward. As he leaned forward over the horse’s neck, urging it into a hard run, Marcus pulled back his tunic and slowly slid the dagger back into its scabbard.
He turned to Sextus. “Call in the men. Tell them what is happening and why. I want to be ready to move in half an hour.”
Chapter 31
Accept whatever is brought upon you, and in changes that humble you be patient. For gold is tested in the fire, and acceptable men in the furnace of humiliation.
—Ecclesiasticus, or the Wisdom of Jesus, the Son of Sirach 2:4–5
I
9 June, a.d. 30
Moshe Ya’abin watched as his men finished loading the small bars of gold into their saddlebags. It gave him great satisfaction to watch as the leather sagged heavily against the horses’ flanks. Then the smile faded as he turned back to face Ha’keedohn. “So we shall have to wait for another day to square our accounts? Just like before.”
“It is not just like before,” Yehuda said darkly. “The last time we saw you, you were scurrying up a hill with your tail between your legs.”
“That’s enough, Yehuda,” Simeon said. “A dog doesn’t understand what it is that makes him a dog. It’s just part of his nature.”
Ya’abin lunged forward, but Eliab, his lieutenant, caught him by the arm. “There will be another time,” he said. “The Romans are here. We must be going.”
“Why is Gehazi so anxious to have us gone?” Ya’abin said, turning to look up the narrow canyon. The first of Marcus Didius’s column was just coming around the bend into view. “Could it be that there are more than ten talents, and someone is anxious that we do not learn about it?”
“You know what your problem is, Ya’abin?” Simeon said. “You always judge others by yourself.”
This time the ferret from Judea broke free. He whipped his dagger out and threw himself at Simeon. It was not unexpected, and Simeon easily sidestepped it. As Ya’abin swung around, he came face to face with Daniel, who had his bow drawn back to where the tip of the arrow touched the wood. “I would like it very much if you would try that again,” Daniel said softly. “Very much.”
Ya’abin stepped back, his mouth twisting. “I don’t think there are other Romans coming. I think the Javelin just wanted an excuse to sidestep a battle so
that he would not have to prove his courage.”
“There are twenty wagons of arms right there,” Simeon said, taunting him with an easy smile. “The Romans are not armed. Why don’t you hang around here and find out for yourself if we speak the truth or not.”
“Come on, Ya’abin,” Eliab pleaded. “I don’t like this. Let’s get out of here.”
Simeon turned on his heel and walked away without another word. Yehuda followed, but Daniel backed up slowly, the arrow still steady as a rock on Ya’abin’s chest. When they reached the trees, he let the arrow fly. It slammed into a tree trunk no more than five feet from Ya’abin’s nose. A laugh of pure delight echoed through the narrow pass.
Ya’abin swore and started forward, but again his lieutenant grabbed his arm. “We must go.”
Ya’abin stopped, his fingers clenching and unclenching. Finally, he turned. “Something’s not right here, Eliab.”
“I agree; so let’s get out of here.”
Ya’abin didn’t move. His eyes were darting back and forth as his mind worked feverishly. “I think our friend in Jerusalem has had a hand in this. Even the Javelin seems pleased that we are willing to take the Romans down the canyon.”
“What are you saying?”
He turned, watching the column approach their position. The soldiers had seen them, and the Roman tribune had called them into closer formation. He just shook his head. Then he turned to Eliab. “I think it only fitting that we create a little surprise of our own.”
“What?”
“If Ha’keedohn is right and the Romans knew all along about our ambush, then our fat one in Jerusalem had something to do with it. That would explain how he knew so much about the movement of this column. He got it from the Romans themselves.”
Fishers of Men Page 60