“You’re going to ask?” she echoed faintly. “The Miriam I knew back in Caesarea would have demanded.”
“That’s not fair, Livia. You know how things are now between Father and me.”
“I do, and by the way, I think your father is right. I think it is a mistake to return home before Ya’abin is captured. All I’m saying is that Simeon is right. You do love Rome. You’re not nearly as anxious to leave as you were when we first came.”
Her mouth opened to protest further, then shut again. “Yes,” she admitted. “Yes, I do love Rome. But I think about home all the time, almost every day.” The moment she said it, she realized that her use of “almost” greatly diluted the power of her statement.
“So what else?”
Now it was Livia who colored. “I think I have said enough.”
“No, what else? You have something you want to say about Marcus, don’t you.”
Her eyes dropped and her fingers began to play with the edge of her robe.
“Go on,” Miriam said evenly, bracing herself even as she asked. “I want to hear it.”
“Well,” Livia began, obviously hesitant. “It was Simeon’s comment about Marcus that really made you angry, wasn’t it? Not just what he said about Rome.”
Miriam started to shake her head, then nodded. “Yes, a little.”
“And what are your feelings about Marcus Didius, Miriam?” Livia asked quietly. “And don’t feel that you have to tell me. Just ask yourself.”
And so she did. She asked herself what it was in the relationship with this son of one of Rome’s most important families that would cause Livia to say that. “Well,” she started, choosing her words with care, “I do enjoy his company. I admit, I was very happy to see him this morning. He has been a wonderful host. He’s intelligent, educated, clever, witty.”
“Handsome?”
She shot her a look, but then nodded sheepishly. “Very.”
“And is he a man of integrity and honor?”
“Yes!” It flashed out. “I know that he’s not what we expect, but he comes from a different culture, Livia. His values are different than ours. He views the world very differently from us. Isn’t integrity being true to your values? Doesn’t honor mean to stand fast in what you believe? If that’s so, then Marcus has both.”
Livia was thoughtful. “Yes, I suppose if you look at it that way, that is so.”
Miriam was still trying to answer the question honestly. “I like to be with him. I enjoy talking with him. He’s stimulating. He challenges me to think. But that doesn’t mean I think his values are better than ours.” Her voice rose slightly as she grew more defensive. “Nor does it mean that I have any romantic interest in him at all.”
One eyebrow raised.
Miriam was incredulous. “You think that?” Appalled, she got to her feet. “Livia, this man talks about slaves as though they were a purse full of coins. When he talks about God—even his gods—it is with faint contempt. Religion in his mind is something for the weak. Can you imagine how he would respond to Jesus? How could I ever love a man like that?”
It was clear that Livia was greatly relieved at her response. “Does he know that?”
That caught Miriam up short. “What?”
“Does Marcus know you have no romantic interest in him? I ask that only because I have watched his eyes when he looks at you, Miriam.”
“I—” She remembered his comment about taking her breath away. “I’ll admit that he seems to find me attractive and enjoys my company, but he knows that we could never marry. We’re too different. I love Rome, but I could never live here permanently.” She pulled a face. “And somehow I can’t picture Marcus moving to Jerusalem, can you?”
She lifted the letter again, but was still looking at Livia. “You do believe that, don’t you, Livia?”
Livia laid a hand over Miriam’s. “I do, and I’m very pleased to hear you say it. But I’m not as sure as you are that Marcus finds the differences impossible to deal with.”
Miriam waved that away, ready to say more, then changed her mind. She started reading again, glad for the opportunity to move on to a different subject.
One other piece of news about the family. There has been a reconciliation between me and my brother Aaron. Your letter mentioned that you knew of his efforts to intervene with Pilate, which may have been a factor in Pilate’s decision to release Simeon and Yehuda. I told Aaron that—though I did not tell him how we learned it. He was deeply pleased. His coming forth in our time of need has gone a long way in healing the breach between us. Aaron now stays with us when he comes to Capernaum. We still differ deeply about Jesus but have agreed not to talk about that.
Now for the news I know both of you are anxious to hear. We see Jesus regularly and continue to be blessed by his teachings and presence. He went to Jerusalem for the Feast of Dedication and will, of course, go up with his mother and brothers and sisters for Passover in the spring. We shall go with Peter and Andrew and their families and hope to see much of Jesus while there.
Miriam paused again. “Do you know that this will be the first time in my life I haven’t been in Jerusalem for Passover?” She sighed, then continued.
Peter tells us that the opposition to Jesus intensifies, especially in the capital. The Great Council in Jerusalem talks about the “growing threat” Jesus presents. The multitudes grow larger each time he goes out to teach, and this concerns them greatly.
Livia, I told Jesus about how you interpreted the parable of the unjust judge and how it led to all of you fasting in Simeon’s behalf. He seemed very pleased and commended you for pondering on his teachings.
Jesus continues to astound us with his powers. Virtually every day we hear of additional healings—the blind see, the lame walk, the sick are cured. There was another miraculous case of multiplication of food. This time there were four thousand people and Jesus fed them with just seven loaves of bread. David and I were not there the day when Jesus fed the five thousand and touched Simeon’s heart. This time we witnessed it with our own eyes. It still leaves me tingling when I think about it.
One last thing. We were both saddened and yet pleasantly surprised last month when Ezra and Lilly showed up in Capernaum. Lilly said that she has not written you directly because she fears your father will see her letter. Your father was furious with Ezra for taking you to Capernaum to warn Simeon about the ambush. Before you both sailed for Rome, Mordechai set things in motion that have totally destroyed Ezra’s business in Joppa.
Miriam stopped, staring at Livia in shock.
Your father purchased the building where Ezra and Lilly live and have their shop, and then he had them evicted. No one dares extend them credit or help them because they fear Mordechai’s wrath will be turned on them. Only a few of their closest friends have dared to stand by them. Surprisingly, they are not bitter about his vindictiveness but have determined to move to Capernaum permanently. David has already helped Ezra secure a place to begin a new shop. Capernaum could use an excellent sandalmaker. And this of course will bring them in close contact with Jesus again. Lilly says to tell you that they now see it all as a blessing and not to harbor bad feelings against your father over it. I have told her how to get a letter to you through Livia, and she promises to write soon.
Miriam looked away, wanting to cry. “Lilly loved Joppa,” she whispered. “What have I done to them?”
Livia shook her head. “Your father is a man of enormous power, Miriam. It is not often anyone dares to cross him. The fact that it was his own daughter was an especially bitter blow.”
“But to financially destroy your own kin?”
Livia was suddenly concerned. “You can’t let him know, Miriam. You can’t say anything to him about this. If he knows how you learned about Ezra, it will only set him off again.”
Miriam lowered her head, her eyes burning. “Oh, Livia.” Then her mouth tightened with sudden resolve. “I’m going back, Livia.”
“No! Miriam, you
can’t!”
“I don’t care about Ya’abin. I won’t live in Jerusalem. I don’t want to anymore.”
“I know you’re upset,” Livia said, really alarmed now. “But you can’t. If your father is angry now, he will be—”
“I’m going back,” Miriam said curtly. “I cannot live with this man any longer.”
Chapter Notes
The details about the Roman Forum, the Vestal Virgins, the institution of slavery at this time, and the Roman means of correspondence are all accurately portrayed (see Johnston, 64–65, 288–89; A Guide, 5–32; Cornell and Matthews, 90–91, 114). The description of the various peoples in the Forum is actually taken from a play written by a Roman dramatist named Plautus, who lived in the second century b.c. (see A Guide, 21–22).
Chapter 16
Appearances are deceiving.
—Aesop’s Fables; from the story about the wolf in sheep’s clothing
I
In the wilderness of Judea 14 March, a.d. 31
Simeon raised his head slightly, peering through the thin cover of the bush across the ravine. The opposite ridge was a hundred feet higher than the spot where Simeon and Yehuda hid; directly level with them was the dark shape of a massive cave. To the right about fifty paces and somewhat below the entrance to the cave, a mixed flock of sheep and goats was scattered along the steep slope. A young shepherd boy, no more than twelve years old, was just ahead of the animals. He seemed oblivious to the gaping opening as he picked up a rock and threw it at a goat that was getting a little too far away from him. The bleating of the animals carried easily to Simeon and Yehuda across the space of the narrow canyon.
“Steady,” Yehuda whispered, speaking not to Simeon but to the boy.
It took the flock another three or four minutes to make their way right up to the cave’s entrance. The boy looked around quickly, then tentatively took a step forward. They heard him call out softly in the melodic tongue of the Arabians. Then he disappeared. If anyone was inside, something Simeon was sure was not the case, the boy was to say he had lost one of his goats and was checking to see if it had strayed inside the great cave.
A moment later the boy reappeared. He beckoned them to come.
Simeon waved back, then sprang up into a crouch. “Let’s go.” Yehuda was instantly up as well. He stood, looking down the canyon, then waved an arm. About half a mile away, a figure stood and waved back. That was Issachar, the second of Simeon’s lieutenants. All was clear in that direction. They both turned, and Yehuda waved again. Above them, another figure waved. That was Barak. All clear up there as well.
Yehuda walked back several paces to where a lumpy bundle laid on the ground. Something was wrapped in a heavy wool blanket and tied securely with hemp ropes.
“Here,” Simeon said, moving back to join him. “I’ll take that.”
“No, you get the bellows and the branches. I’ve got this.” He hefted it up onto his shoulders, then jerked his head away. “Whew!” he exclaimed, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “I thought you said the blanket would keep the smell in.”
Simeon grinned. “That was my hope.”
“This is awful. Maybe you had better take it.”
“Oh, no.” Simeon backed away, one hand over his mouth. “You volunteered.” He picked up the skin bellows they had purchased from a blacksmith in Jerusalem and the long branches they had cut from a Jerusalem pine two days before. “Let’s go.”
But as he started away, Yehuda didn’t move. Simeon stopped again. “What?”
“Are you sure this is what we ought to be doing?” There was no mistaking the distaste in Yehuda’s eyes. “Why not just wait for them to come back and jump them? We could hit them hard and be gone again before they even knew we were here.”
Simeon sighed. They had had this discussion more than once in the last three months.
“First, because there’s not enough cover. Ya’abin will have scouts out and see us a mile away. We’re not dealing with someone who is stupid here. Second, because he’s got a hundred men and we have twenty-one. Third, because a man whose opinion I have come to value once told me this: ‘Just because you are fighting the barbarians at the gate doesn’t mean that you have to become a barbarian yourself.’”
“Is that another one of your favorite sayings from Jesus?” Yehuda scoffed.
Simeon ignored the dig. “No, actually, it was my brother Ephraim who told me that. Now let’s go.”
II
“What about the rest of the cave? Do you want us to erase the footprints out here as well?”
Simeon, who was on his hands and knees, turned his head. Yehuda was in the main part of the cave, folding the blanket up and coiling the rope around one arm. His voice was nasal and odd sounding, and Simeon realized he was trying to hold his breath as he spoke. That was no surprise. Simeon was himself breathing in short gasps, blinking rapidly to keep his eyes from watering.
“No,” he answered. “Back here will be enough.” He reached for the pine branch. “Go. I’ll finish up. Make sure that boy is clear out of here.”
“He was gone the minute you gave him his money.”
“Good.” As Yehuda reached the entrance, Simeon turned back to survey the place they had chosen to leave their “offering.” In the last ten or fifteen feet of the back corner of the cave, the ceiling was too low for a man to stand. Though there were a few chicken bones and other scraps of debris tossed there, that was all. It wasn’t a place that lent itself to occupancy, and judging from the thick dust, no one ever went back there.
Simeon took the pine branches and dragged them back and forth across the crawling marks they’d made, and over the long gouge where they had dragged in the bundle before unwrapping it. Once the dust was smooth, he reached for the bellows. Working carefully, he pumped the skins carefully, blowing the air directly at the dirt. In two minutes, even the lines made by the branches were gone. The dust looked as though it hadn’t been disturbed for centuries.
Pleased, he stood and took a deep breath. That was a mistake. He winced, nearly gagging, then turned and plunged out of the cave. Outside, he took in great gulps of air. “That is really bad,” he said with obvious pleasure.
“What do we do with the blanket?” Yehuda asked, holding it at arm’s length.
“We’ll burn it once we’re away from here.” He sniffed the air in Yehuda’s direction. “And by the way, I’d appreciate it if you’d sleep downwind from the rest of us tonight.”
III
Eliab saw it first. The sun was down, and the light in the ravine was fading rapidly as they moved up the narrow canyon from where they corralled their horses. The scouts had already given the all-clear signal, so he was climbing steadily up the steep slope. Just ahead, the opening of the cave loomed above him. It was almost completely black inside. He stopped, holding up his hand.
Moshe Ya’abin immediately moved up beside his chief captain. “What?”
“Fresh sheep and goat droppings,” he said, pointing.
Ya’abin stared for a moment, then swung around to the others, pointing at both sides of the ravine. “Scatter out. Make sure we’re alone.”
As they raced away, Ya’abin dropped to one knee. He picked up a sheep dropping and crushed it between two fingers, then let it fall away. “It’s cold, but definitely fresh.”
Eliab was walking forward slowly, peering at the ground. “Not a large flock. Ten, maybe fifteen animals. No more.”
“Are the scouts still out?” Ya’abin demanded of the man just behind him.
“Of course. If somebody was nearby, we’d know it by now.”
He looked around, scanning the ridge tops above them. He didn’t like it. Animal droppings were not unusual. The wandering tribes of this wilderness part of Judea went wherever there was grass, and the spring rains had turned much of the land green for a brief time. Here in the canyon, the forage was not lush, but it was enough to bring a shepherd and his sheep. But the grass had been here when they left two days before
and there had been no sign of animals then. Anything unusual raised his suspicions. That was how he had survived as long as he had.
He motioned to Eliab. “Check the cave.”
Eliab jabbed his finger at three others and they ran forward with him. Drawing bows and swords, they disappeared inside. A moment later, the four of them came stumbling out again, arms across their faces. “There’s something dead in there,” Eliab called.
“What?”
“It’s really bad,” one of the others said.
Ya’abin couldn’t believe that. He moved forward, cursing under his breath. Fools! Probably someone had left a bowl of stew sitting out, or perhaps some of the goat they had eaten three nights before. “Get one of the torches.”
Covering his mouth, Eliab went inside again, returning a moment later with one of the long-handled torches they used to light the cave. “It is terrible, Moshe!” he said.
Ya’abin flicked his fingers impatiently. Two of the men sprang forward, pulling out flints. In a moment they had the torch blazing.
“Stay alert,” Ya’abin commanded, taking the torch from them and moving forward. The stench hit him before he even passed beneath the overhanging rock. He too threw his arm across his face. “I’ll have the head of whoever left that behind,” he growled. Then he stiffened a little as another thought struck him. “Any animal tracks?” he asked, holding the torch high.
The answer to that was immediately clear. There were many signs of men here—not a surprise when you had a hundred with you—but nothing from either sheep or goats. So the shepherd had not come inside, at least not with his animals.
Now the men were groaning. The stench was overpowering.
“Shut up!” he snarled. He whirled on Eliab. “Look around. See if anything has been touched.”
Eliab grabbed a second torch, lit it, then moved deeper into the cave. Less than a minute later he was back shaking his head. “Everything is just as we left it.”
“Then find whatever it is, and find it quick.” He shoved the torch at another man and stepped back, breathing through his mouth in quick, shallow breaths.
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