Fishers of Men

by Gerald N. Lund

He jerked up. “Stop it, Miriam! You know I can’t do that. Won’t do that. Justice would be well served if I did, that is true enough. But Pilate will strip you naked and feed your flesh to the vultures. The fact that you are my daughter will only make him all the more determined to use you as an example.”

  “If you say the word, I will leave tonight and you will never see me again.”

  “We are going to Rome, Miriam,” he muttered. “Get that into your head. I will brook no more objections to that and no more disobedience from you. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Father.” She gave him another few moments, then asked the crucial question. “And what if Simeon doesn’t hold out, Father? What if he gives Pilate my name? Then what?”

  His fingers came up, and he began to rub at his eyes. “I don’t know.” There was an infuriated cry again. “What were you thinking, Miriam? What in heaven’s name possessed you? Did the possibility of what the Romans would do to you if they ever found this out never even cross your mind?” He looked up at her, his eyes haggard and bloodshot.

  “I did what I felt I had to do. I’m sorry that it has caused you so much grief.”

  He swore, softly enough that she wasn’t sure what he said.

  She took a quick breath. “There is a way out of this, Father.”

  He sat up fully, lips pinched into a tight line. “Free Simeon?” he scoffed.

  “Yes. If he goes free, Pilate will never know who betrayed him.”

  “And what would you have me do to bring that miracle about? Barge into the governor’s bedroom and read some scripture to him? Perhaps play some soothing music on a lyre? Offer him a handful of ripe grapes to soothe his mood?”

  Miriam’s head came up slowly. “If you get me in to see him, I can convince him to let Simeon go.”

  V

  Clothing a Roman gentleman properly in his white toga was an art. It had to be draped just right over the shoulder and arm. The folds had to be precise and even. The skirt had to be perfectly level at the ankle. It could take even a trained slave close to quarter of an hour to get it right. Pilate had removed his toga after dinner and did not take the time to put it on again. He wore a simple brown tunic that came to mid-thigh, secured at the waist with a simple leather belt. He was shod in the sandals he normally wore only in his chambers. His feet slapped softly on the marble floor as he paced back and forth.

  At the sound of the door opening, he turned. The expression on his face was moody and dark.

  Marcus came in first, followed by Miriam and then Mordechai. Pilate gave his commanding officer a sharp look. “You are party to this too?”

  Marcus bowed his head slightly. “Miriam and her father have come to me with a proposal, sire. They felt if I could not approve, there was no sense troubling you. I think it has enough merit to warrant your attention.”

  “And it had to be tonight?” he snapped.

  Miriam came forward to stand beside Marcus. “Yes, Excellency. I’m sorry, but it is a matter of some urgency.” He started to say something, but she went on quickly. “And my father is not responsible for my impertinence, Excellency. He tried diligently to talk me out of this course of action, but alas, his daughter brings him much frustration.”

  Pilate had a bemused expression as he looked at Mordechai. “So it was you who was trying to break my furniture?” he asked.

  Mordechai flushed, then held out his hands. “Miriam’s mother died when she was six years old. I fear that being raised by an old man such as myself has left her very headstrong and spirited, sire. It can be very exasperating.”

  Pilate nodded, pleased that the Jew had not tried to temporize or pretend not to know what he was referring to. “What is it then?” he said, looking at Marcus.

  There was a moment’s hesitation; then the tribune turned to Miriam. “It was Miriam who thought of this possible solution, sire. With your permission, I would suggest that she be the one to present it to you.”

  Pilate frowned, not particularly pleased with that protocol, but nodded. He moved to a large marble armchair that was almost like a throne and sat down. He didn’t suggest they sit, and so none of them moved. “Go on, then,” he said with a wave of his hand.

  Miriam took one step forward. “Sire, the obligation I feel toward this Simeon may not seem as important to you as it is to me, but in our culture, when a person saves another’s life there is an attendant debt of gratitude that cannot lightly be ignored.”

  “It is the same in our society.”

  “It is for this reason that I feel compelled to speak in his behalf.”

  His mouth pulled down. “I told you that this issue was settled, ” he warned. “I thought I had made that quite clear this evening.”

  “I understand, Excellency. And I would not interfere in these affairs further if it had not occurred to me that there is a way to honor my obligation and at the same time offer solutions to some problems confronting you and your government.”

  His heavy brows wrinkled slightly. “You’re going to tell me that helping this Simeon will be to my benefit?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  He looked at her father, an amused expression on his face. “You are right, Mordechai. Her impertinence is almost breathtaking.”

  Mordechai only inclined his head and said nothing.

  Miriam was churning inside. His comment had been half in jest, but there was a clear warning beneath the light tone. This had better be worth disturbing me at this hour of the night.

  Speaking slowly, she continued. “Tonight, sire, you spoke of two frustrations you currently face, costly and dangerous frustrations. The first is Moshe Ya’abin. As you noted, he grows more bold with each passing day. After more than a month, your troops are no closer to caging him. This is not a surprise. The wilderness of Judea has served as a hiding place for those who wish to avoid capture since the time of our King David a thousand years ago.”

  Pilate’s eyes had darkened. He was keenly aware of the failings of his garrison in Jerusalem, but he did not appreciate her taking note of that fact. “And my other supposed frustration?”

  She didn’t miss his emphasis on supposed. “It is the uprising in the north. Marcus tells us that it is spreading rapidly. I do not need to tell you, sire, that the Galilee has always been a tinderbox of rebellion. More than once they have been the cause of great problems for Rome.”

  He nodded curtly. “Go on.”

  She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then plunged ahead. “What if Simeon of Capernaum could eliminate both of those frustrations for you, sire? Then would you consider releasing him?”

  VI

  As Miriam and her father moved down the corridor toward their rooms, Mordechai spoke in a low voice. “If the answer from Pilate is no, Miriam, that ends it. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “You have put us both at tremendous risk. Your actions could destroy everything I’ve spent a lifetime working to achieve. If Pilate rejects this proposal, you will not say another word.”

  Miriam had already decided that for herself. She knew she had skirted the edge of the volcano this night. “The fact that he asked Marcus to stay is a good sign,” she suggested.

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

  “Do you think Marcus will speak in favor of the proposal?”

  He shrugged. “It makes sense both strategically and tactically, and Marcus is a wise and experienced commander.” He lowered his voice, looking around. “On the other hand, Pilate wants that name from Simeon very badly. His ego has been severely bruised, and that is no small matter with this governor.”

  They had reached Mordechai’s door. Both stopped for a moment. Miriam watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was staring at nothing, deep in his thoughts. “Father, I—” But she stopped. She was not going to apologize to him for what she had done. Let his fury roll. She had done the right thing.

  He turned, his face grim. “Let us hope that your idea solves our immediate problem, Miriam. But
don’t think for a moment that the other is forgotten. Your foolishness has wrought great harm. You have done tremendous damage to our cause. That simply cannot be ignored.”

  “If you are looking for a way to punish me, Father,” Miriam said evenly, “you have already found it. Going to Rome is the answer. It is something I dread beyond anything you can imagine.”

  “Good night, Miriam.” He opened the door and went inside, closing it sharply behind him.

  Miriam stood there for a moment, then turned and walked on, knowing that Livia would be anxious for her return.

  VII

  16 July, a.d. 30

  Simeon was calculating in his head.

  His cell opened directly onto the corridor of the prison, with no door. It was approximately seven feet long, four feet wide, and perhaps six feet high. The low ceiling was covered with plaster, probably over laths and beams. Each of the side walls, as well as the main wall that formed the back of the prison, was made of bricks. There were seven hundred ninety-three bricks in each cell, if you counted all three sides. Yesterday, he had risked a hard kick when he inched as far forward as his chains would allow to see around the edge of the wall. He couldn’t see all the way to the end in either direction, but he saw enough to estimate there were fourteen cells in this particular part of the prison.

  That information had required him to start over again. He finally resorted to straws carefully laid out on the stone floor to help him keep track of the multiplication. Too bad Ephraim wasn’t here. He had always been the quick one with figures.

  He stopped. Too bad Ephraim isn’t here? He almost broke into laughter. Ephraim surely would not agree with that wish.

  So, seven hundred ninety-three bricks in each cell, and there were fourteen cells. He began to push the straws with his finger, careful not to let the chains dangling from his wrist brush across the floor and ruin his count again. The long straws each counted for a hundred—

  His head came up as the heavy metal door at the top of the stairs screeched sharply. A moment later he heard the sound of footsteps starting down. He felt himself tense. The bread and water had been brought no more than an hour before. Was it time? Were they finally coming for him?

  He carefully sat up and placed one leg over his “mathematics board” so no one could see what he was doing. He didn’t recognize the step, and he knew every guard by now, especially the ones you had to be especially careful around.

  Only when the footsteps stopped directly in front of the cell did Simeon look up. He fought back a look of surprise, and instead forced a bored expression as he looked into the face of Marcus Quadratus Didius.

  “Good afternoon.”

  “Is it?” he asked. “Is it good? And is it afternoon?”

  Marcus moved a step closer. “I need to ask you some questions.”

  “Save your breath. That issue is already settled.”

  For a moment, Marcus didn’t understand; then he brushed Simeon’s comment aside. “I’m not here to ask who betrayed us.”

  In spite of himself, Simeon raised his head slightly.

  “How well do you know Moshe Ya’abin?”

  “Ya’abin?” He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. Then he smiled. “Still haven’t caught the old fox yet, eh?”

  “He’s doubled or tripled the number of his men since the Joknean Pass. And he’s become much more bold.”

  “After what happened that night, I’m sure he feels he’s got some scores to settle,” Simeon said. “Are your soldiers still getting footsore looking for him out there in the desert?”

  “Do you think you could do any better?”

  “Are you looking for advice from me? Sorry, my fees would be a little steep for you.”

  “I’m not looking for advice. Yes or no? Do you think you could do better?”

  Again Simeon took the measure of the man, especially watching his eyes. This was not a casual question and he wasn’t sure why. Finally he shrugged. “Any man is catchable. The problem with you Romans is you act like you are hunting elephants when what you are chasing is a rabbit.”

  “And you think you could catch a rabbit?”

  Simeon closed his eyes. “Actually, my schedule is pretty full at the moment.”

  For a long time, Marcus was silent, eyeing Simeon up and down. Then he dropped into a crouch. He talked swiftly and concisely, describing in short, hard sentences what was happening in the Galilee. Finished, he sat back on his heels.

  Simeon tipped back his head and laughed. “So it’s begun without me? I should have known that.” Yet even as he taunted Marcus, his mind was racing. Why had he come to share this news with him? He shot the Roman a derisive look. “You should have foreseen it too. The Galilee is like a small village. Everyone knows everything. It looks like your decision to set aside your honor backfired. Did you come here expecting sympathy?”

  Marcus’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He knew what Simeon was doing, and he was determined not to be provoked. “Suppose you were given a free hand. Could you convince your countrymen to stop this uprising?”

  For a long moment their eyes locked and held; then Simeon raised his hands, rattling the chains that hung from the manacles around his wrists. “And just how literal did you mean ‘a free hand’?”

  “I meant it literally,” Marcus answered quietly.

  Simeon stared back at him, his mouth opened slightly in shock.

  Amused that he had finally pierced that insufferable arrogance, Marcus smiled. “I come with an offer from Pilate.”

  “Go on.”

  “Your freedom in return for two things. Peace in the Galilee and Moshe Ya’abin.”

  Simeon couldn’t help it. He jerked forward so quickly that the chains yanked on the wrist manacles, digging them into his flesh. He was tempted to laugh in Marcus’s face, but something in the tribune’s eyes let him know this was not some joke, some terribly cruel way to taunt him. “What about the name of the person who betrayed your great secret?”

  “That was the hardest for Pilate to give up, but he has agreed. He’ll trade that for Ya’abin and for your promise that the uprising will stop.”

  Simeon was silent, but his mind was working furiously. “Starting when?” he finally asked.

  “This afternoon. You think about it very carefully. If you can give me your word that you will deliver on both of those conditions, then you’ll be a free man before sundown.”

  “And Pilate has approved this?” he asked again, still reeling.

  “Yes. I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t.”

  Simeon lay back against the rear wall. Marcus waited, guessing at some of the questions going through this man’s mind.

  “How long would I have?”

  “How long do you need?”

  He licked his lips. “Peace will be tricky, but if I am released—” He stopped. “I’ll need Yehuda, Barak, and Samuel too.” He held his breath.

  “I told Pilate that’s what you’d say.”

  “Yehuda is my second-in-command. I can’t go after Ya’abin alone. And from what you say, part of the fury in the Galilee is that you took those three men after they helped save your Roman necks. If they are not released too, then I can’t—”

  “Pilate has agreed to that condition.”

  Simeon rocked back. “He has? He will release all four of us?”

  “Yes. You can take them with you today. So how long do you need?”

  Simeon was clearly having trouble coping with the sudden changes of events. “The Galilee will take a month, maybe more. We’ll have to go around and meet with each group.”

  “And what about Ya’abin?”

  “You say he’s tripled his numbers?”

  “Yes. And more are flocking to him every day. He’s been hitting caravans up and down the King’s Highway, robbing the custom houses, making off with gold and huge caches of incense. He’s got plenty of money and spoils to draw every criminal within a hundred furlongs.”

  “I assume y
ou want more than just Ya’abin himself.”

  Marcus didn’t hesitate. He and Pilate had discussed this late into the night and again this morning. “Ya’abin is to be delivered alive if at all possible. But the band has to be destroyed once and for all. Totally annihilated. Anything less will not be acceptable.”

  Simeon wasn’t greatly surprised. “I will have to gather a force of my own.”

  “You can have as many of our troops as you need.”

  A scathing look was the only answer to that. “It will take some time to outfit my band again.” Simeon was still thinking to himself. Then he turned. “I assume asking for your help in rearming my men would be unwise.”

  “It was your men from Beth Neelah who hit the armory in Capernaum. Do you really want me to go back and suggest that to Pilate?”

  Simeon gave a quick shake of his head. Finally, he nodded. “I can start showing results in six to eight months,” he said, trying to sound as positive as he could. “Enough to stop Ya’abin from bothering you and start him after us. I can have it over in a year. Fourteen months at the most, counting the time it takes us in the Galilee.”

  Marcus nodded and stood. “Pilate has agreed to six months. If you’re certain you can show some results by then, I can convince him to give you one year. But no more. You’ll have twelve months from today.”

  “We will need some money to operate.” Simeon frowned. “For some reason, I’m short three gold talents right now. My guess is our noble governor has not made returning those part of his offer.”

  Marcus didn’t have to answer that. “Mordechai ben Uzziel has volunteered to fund this. There will be a thousand shekels put into an account in Jerusalem. I’ll have a letter this afternoon giving you instructions on how to get access to those funds. A thousand should be enough to get you started.”

  That really took Simeon aback. “Mordechai is putting up the money? Why?”

  “Because Ya’abin has sworn to kill him. There’s already been one attempt on his life. He also fears for Miriam’s safety.”

  Simeon nodded slowly. “Yes, that would be Ya’abin’s way. Of all of us, Ya’abin would see Mordechai as his greatest betrayer.”

  “They’re sailing for Rome in a few days—father and daughter. They’ll not return until they are sure the fox has been caged.” He smiled grimly. “Or the rabbit has been run to ground.” Then his voice went hard. “But know this, Simeon. If once you are free you decide to run—”