Simeon took his hand and pressed it to his breast, rocking back and forth. “It’s all right, Daniel. Hold on. Hold on.”
VIII
“Fall back! Fall back!” Ya’abin was screaming at his men, cursing and swearing at this turn of fate. Figures came running toward him, staying low, weaving in and out to provide a more difficult target.
“Let’s get out of here!” Ya’abin leaped to his feet and grabbed at his horse’s reins.
“What about the wounded?” Eliab cried.
“Leave them!”
He didn’t wait to see if anyone else followed him. He threw himself into the saddle and dug his heels in the horse’s flanks. In a moment those who were still able had grabbed their own mounts and raced after him, leaving a cloud of dust as they pounded down the narrow road that eventually led out of the Joknean Pass.
A quarter of a mile farther on, Ya’abin gave a cry of alarm and pulled his mount to a sliding stop. The others almost overrode him before they also got their horses stopped. “Someone’s coming!” Ya’abin shouted, pointing down the road to where three running figures could be seen in the moonlight.
“It’s Shaul!” a voice cried. “It’s the sentries.”
Ya’abin swore. He had totally forgotten that he had sent three men down the road to watch for any trouble. He started forward, but Shaul’s terrified cry stopped him short again. “Ya’abin! Romans coming!”
“They’re not coming,” he snarled. “They’re behind us.”
Shaul raced up, his eyes bulging. “No! A whole column. They’re coming up the pass.”
Ya’abin’s jaw went slack.
“How far?” Eliab blurted.
“Ten minutes, maybe less. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Mordechai!” Ya’abin hissed.
Eliab turned and stared in amazement. “You think it’s Mordechai?”
A stream of curses poured from the bandit’s mouth. “Yes, this is Mordechai’s doing.” But as quickly as the fury had struck him, it was gone again. He swung down. “Leave the horses. Into the hills.”
“What about the gold?” one of the men cried.
“Leave it!”
“No!” That came from several of the men. With half their numbers now down, they had already been calculating how much more of a share they would get.
He swore at them again. “We’ve got Romans coming up the road and another full maniple somewhere in the hills between us and Judea. You want the gold, you stay with your horse. Me, I’ll get mine later from Mordechai ben Uzziel.”
He slapped his horse on the rump and darted away, plunging into the trees on the south side of the road. That was enough for his followers. In a moment the horses were gone and the road was deserted.
IX
Yehuda stepped out, waving his arms. “Whoa! Whoa there!” He moved quickly to block the horse’s path. Three horses had already raced by them with empty saddles. This one they cut off. “Easy, Boy,” Yehuda soothed, coming up slowly. The head reared back and the eyes were wild, but the horse stood its ground. Yehuda took another step and grabbed the reins, then pulled its head down again.
“It’s all right, Boy,” he said, rubbing its forehead. “Who do you belong to anyway?” Rubbing his hand across the trembling flesh, he moved around to the side. He didn’t even have to reach inside the saddlebags. The moment he felt the heavy weight there, he knew what it was. “It’s one of Ya’abin’s,” he said. “And the gold is still here.”
That brought exclamations of astonishment. “Why?” someone asked. “Why would he leave the gold?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”
“Listen!” another hissed.
They turned. It took a moment; then the sound was unmistakable to every one of them. It was the clatter of many hooves on stone.
“Ya’abin’s coming back,” one of them cried.
Yehuda held up a hand, his head still cocked to one side. “No,” he exclaimed. “There are too many.” Then his heart went cold. Now he understood why Ya’abin had left his mounts and fled. “It’s the Romans.” He whirled. “Into the trees. Get out of here as quickly as you can. We’ll see you back in Beth Neelah, if not before.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to find Simeon.” He took off running hard back up the canyon.
They had come less than half a mile in pursuit of Ya’abin, so Yehuda was back at the place of ambush in five or six minutes. He pulled up short. The column stood quiet and deserted in the moonlight. The only movement was from the teams hitched to the wagon and two or three riderless mounts. Feeling a sudden uneasiness, Yehuda took down his bow and nocked an arrow in the string as he moved forward slowly. There were bodies everywhere. Romans, Judeans. One horse was down and wheezing badly, an arrow in its chest.
He spun around as he heard a soft moan. Three feet away, one of the Romans stirred, then groaned. In an instant Yehuda had the arrow trained on him, but he didn’t move again.
He approached the first wagon, totally baffled. Ten minutes earlier this had been a nightmare scene. He lowered the bow and cupped a hand. “Simeon?”
He heard a soft sound. Yehuda whirled, but saw no one. “Simeon?” he called again.
“Put down your bow,” a voice said just behind him. “Put it down or you die.”
X
Simeon jerked up when he heard Yehuda’s voice from below. As he got to his feet, his shout of relief died in his throat. He could see Yehuda clearly in the moonlight. His hands were held high, and he was very stiff. And then Simeon saw why. He had been so focused on Daniel that he hadn’t noticed that all activity down below had ceased. Now, suddenly, figures were stepping out from behind wagons and trees everywhere he looked. And as he watched, he realized that on most he could see the soft gleam of moonlight on metal helmets.
A plumed figure moved forward, and Yehuda’s hands were jerked around behind him. Simeon couldn’t see it, but he knew his wrists were being tied. He bent over Daniel. “Yehuda’s in trouble,” he whispered. “I’ll be back.”
Daniel stirred but did not open his eyes. Simeon picked up his bow and began moving quietly downhill, slipping from shadow to shadow, his eyes never leaving Yehuda’s figure. No one was looking up the hill anymore. Other than the small group of men with swords who now surrounded Yehuda, all the rest of the survivors were busy arming themselves from the wagons they had brought into the pass.
Then Simeon froze in place. The others heard it too—the sound of many horses coming. He heard Marcus barking orders, and as quickly as they had appeared the Romans below him melted into the night again. Simeon pressed in behind a large pine tree, praying that Daniel wouldn’t awaken and cry out. The sound of the horses was rising to a dull rumble. They were just around the bend.
Simeon shook his head in great despair. He didn’t have to wait to see who it was. He knew as surely as he knew there was no way he could now do anything for Yehuda. He turned and moved silently back up the hill.
Simeon broke off the shaft as close as he could to the wound, then shouldered Daniel, careful to avoid jarring him more than necessary. As Daniel groaned, Simeon looked one last time at the scene down below. The line of Roman cavalry stretched back around the bend. In the light of the moon, he could see the large red plume and red cape of the man who sat on a horse at the head of his troops. He didn’t have to wonder who it was. As he quietly moved deeper into the trees, he clearly heard the voice of Marcus Quadratus Didius floating up to him on the night air, confirming what he already knew. “Governor!” Marcus called out with great relief. “We thought you would never come.”
Chapter 32
And Jesus said unto him, No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.
—Luke 9:62
I
10 June, a.d. 30
It was just at dawn that David and the two men from Simeon’s band found them. Simeon was moving slowly along a narrow path through the for
est, staggering under the weight of the man he carried over his shoulder. The three men rushed to him. As they reached him, Simeon looked up, barely recognizing them. “Father?”
“Yes, Son. We’re here.”
“Daniel’s hurt,” he mumbled.
David motioned to the other two to help him, and they gently lifted Daniel off.
“Careful!” Simeon cried. “He’s in a lot of pain.”
David looked up. Daniel’s face was cold, his body already stiffening. “Not any longer, Simeon,” he said softly. “Daniel’s at peace now.”
Simeon blinked, not sure he had heard right, staring down at the still form at his feet. He slowly sank to the ground and buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I’m so sorry.” Then he looked at his father. “Tried to find the horse. Couldn’t. Had to carry him.”
“Gehazi took our horses, remember?” his father said gently. “When you went with Yehuda and your men, Gehazi said he was taking the horses.”
Simeon’s shoulders began to shake convulsively. “Couldn’t find the horse,” he mumbled.
David sat down beside him and put his arms around him. For a long time he just held him, feeling the trembling in Simeon’s body. When the suddering began to subside, one of the men reached out and touched Simeon’s shoulder. “What about Yehuda?” he asked in a gentle voice.
Simeon’s head came up. He wiped at the tears with the back of his hand. “Romans took him.” Again the anguish twisted his mouth. “Tried to get to him. Too late. Pilate. The governor. Hundreds of soldiers.” He turned to his father, his eyes pleading. “I tried to get to him.”
David nodded. Then he took him by the shoulders and shook him gently, trying not to show how shocked he was by his son’s appearance. He also understood why. In addition to the tragedy of the night before, he was on the verge of sheer exhaustion. He had slept only an hour or two the night before and none at all this night. In the last two days he had traveled nearly fifty miles, much of that on foot. From the appearance of things, he had been carrying Daniel through most of the night.
“Simeon, listen to me. We have to move. There are soldiers everywhere. There is great danger.”
Finally his eyes began to focus, and a semblance of rationality began to return. “Mother?”
“She’s on her way back to Capernaum. Some of your men are taking her home. Miriam and Livia and Ezra, with an escort, left for Ptolemais in the night. They’re all right.”
“Have to get Daniel to Beth Neelah.” His face crumpled again as a new thought hit him. “Shana. Oh, Shana!”
The two men with David looked at each other; then the one turned to David. “We’ve got to move,” he whispered.
“Simeon, listen. We’re going to have to bury Daniel here.”
“No! Beth Neelah.”
“There are Romans everywhere to the east of us. We’re going to have to go west and make our way around them.”
His head came up, and he gripped his father’s arm. “Ya’abin! He was trying to kill them all.”
“I know.” He gestured with his head. “Your brethren told me all about it. You stopped a massacre, Simeon.”
He straightened, coming back to himself. “What about the others? Gehazi? The others?”
David shook his head in disgust. “Gehazi got greedy. Instead of sending out men to intercept the Romans, he decided he would just get out of there before the Romans came. He was still going through the wagons when Pilate and Marcus, now totally rearmed, came out of the pass.” He sighed, the weariness heavy on him as well. “They didn’t get much, but they got away. The Romans are trying to hunt them down now.”
The other man was motioning to David. “We have to go!” he mouthed.
David stood and pulled his son up to stand beside him. “Come. Let us put Daniel to rest, and then we must leave.”
II
Marcus stepped inside the tent and immediately stiffened to attention. “Tribune Marcus Didius reporting as requested, Excellency.”
Pilate stood immediately and came over to him. He laid a hand on his shoulder. “Marcus, Marcus. Stand down. It’s over.” He laid a hand on his shoulder. “You have saved us from a major disaster.”
The relief hit him like a blow to the stomach. He had come expecting to face Pilate’s rage.
“Come, sit down. Did you get any sleep?”
“A little.”
As they moved over to a table, Marcus took off his helmet and sat in the chair the governor indicated. Pilate flicked a finger, and a slave jumped forward and poured two cups of wine, then immediately left.
“I talked with your centurion, and—”
“Sextus? How is he?”
“In a lot of pain. The surgeons dug the arrow out. He’ll probably limp for the rest of his life, but he’s a tough old veteran.”
“One of the best,” Marcus said fervently.
“He told me everything.” His eyes went hard. “Have you given any thought as to who betrayed us? Do you think it was Mordechai?”
Marcus shook his head quickly. “No.” He took a sip of wine, savoring the taste as it washed out the dust and grime and a long sleepless night from his mouth. “No, Mordechai had as much to gain as we did.” He blew out his breath. “I can’t fathom who it might have been. Mordechai took every precaution.” Then his jaw tightened. “But I plan to find out.”
“Have you seen the reports yet?”
“No, sire. I came directly here as you requested.”
He turned and picked up a piece of parchment. “Most important, we’ve recovered all the gold except for three or four bars, and we think they’re on a stray horse somewhere. They’re looking for it now.”
“Ya’abin?”
“No. I’ve sent one of the centuries out looking for him, but I’m sure he’s well into Judea by now.”
Marcus’s fingers tightened around the goblet. “That’s one I should like permission to pursue myself,” he said.
“All in due time,” Pilate said impatiently. “He lost seventeen of his men, and we captured twelve more, most of them wounded.”
“And our losses?” he asked quietly.
“Twenty-eight, with about that many more wounded. That was a brilliant move to cut the cover off the wagon so you could get to the swords. You could have lost many more than that.”
Marcus could hardly believe that he was being praised. Last night he had been sure he had endured the greatest disaster of his career. “That was Sextus too, sire. He was everywhere.”
“Yes, yes. I’m going to see that he is rewarded.”
“What about the arms?”
“How many wagons did you bring?”
“Forty-one.”
“Then we lost only four. Thanks to my timely arrival and the fact that you had rearmed yourself, we caught those bandits totally by surprise. They scattered like ducks before the fox.”
The relief was more heady than the wine, and Marcus sat back, marveling at what was happening.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand, though,” Pilate said.
“What is that, Excellency?”
“Your centurion said that the Jews were the ones who stopped Ya’abin from completely annihilating you. Is that true?”
“Someone did.” Marcus had been mulling over that very question much of the night.
“Do you know who?”
“We captured one of their men, sire. If he is to be believed, it was the man they call Ha’keedohn, the Javelin.”
Pilate grunted. “Any idea why?”
His eyes were hooded as Marcus remembered the prick of Simeon’s dagger against his throat. “No, sire, I don’t,” he finally answered. “I wonder if it wasn’t some kind of a mistake.”
III
12 June, a.d. 30
Simeon straightened as Shana came around the house, escorted by one of Simeon’s men. She turned and murmured something to him, and he nodded and backed away. She came on more slowly now, her head high, her back stiff.
“Shalom, Shana.”
“And peace to you, Simeon.” The word peace was said with soft bitterness.
“Any word of Yehuda?”
She nodded curtly.
“In Caesarea?”
“Yes. He and the others they caught are to be crucified next month.”
He expected no less. “I won’t let that happen, Shana. I—”
Her chin came up sharply. “Just as you couldn’t let the Romans die?”
He shook his head. There was nothing to say to that.
“Why, Simeon?” she cried. “Help me understand why.” Her eyes were glistening, but there was as much anger as sorrow there.
“I can’t,” he said sadly. “I can no more help you understand what happened and why than I could make Yehuda understand why I had to do what I did.”
“And what about Daniel?” It burst from her in a cry of agony. “Did you help him understand before he died?”
He looked away. Daniel’s last question was still in Simeon’s mind like a never-ending echo. Why, Simeon? After a moment he reached in his tunic and withdrew a scroll. “I brought the bill of divorcement as you requested. It’s been witnessed and signed.”
She stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, tears trickling down her cheeks, then stepped forward and took it from him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I know. I understand. I am too.”
Her eyes held his for several seconds; then she turned and walked swiftly back to the house. Simeon watched until she disappeared, then turned his face to the east and started back for Capernaum.
IV
13 June, a.d. 30
“Simeon?”
He looked up from the scroll he was reading to where his mother stood in the doorway.
“There’s someone here to see you.”
He set the scroll on the bed. “Who is it?”
She just shook her head. “I think you’d better come and see.”
Puzzled by the gravity of her demeanor, he followed her downstairs and to the front door. She stopped there, pointing. “He’s outside in the courtyard with your father.”
Simeon went out. As he started across the courtyard he saw his father and another man with their backs to him, conversing in low tones. As they heard his footsteps, they both turned. Simeon stopped dead.
Fishers of Men Page 62