Fishers of Men
Page 116
The man gave him a half shove. Ezra let go of the bald man’s arm and stumbled forward. He snapped his pouch open sharply and coins shot outward. The clatter of money sent everyone scrambling. “Thief! Robber!” Ezra screamed. “My money! They’re taking my money!”
Behind him a man threw himself at the bigger guard, putting a headlock on him. Two more grabbed the smaller man and pinned his arms back.
“We didn’t take his money,” the bald one raged. “Let go!”
Ezra stood there for a moment. The people had swarmed in now, and there was no way the guards could see where Simeon and Miriam were. With a tiny smile, Ezra lowered his head and ducked into the crowd.
IV
“Are you all right?” the big man with the shaved head asked his partner.
The younger and smaller man rubbed at his throat where someone had punched him. “Stupid oaf,” he muttered. The two of them had been in serious trouble until someone came up with the empty leather pouch and held it up to show that it wasn’t missing. When the people realized that the accuser had disappeared as well, they quickly lost interest and turned away.
The man turned, then suddenly stiffened. Where before Miriam and her two companions had been standing with a candle vendor, now there was no one. He gave a low cry and started in the direction where he had last seen them, thrusting his way roughly through the crowds. The second man registered shock, then broke into a trot behind his partner. A minute later they reached the spot close to the large building. There they found a basket of cheaply made candles and two writing slates, but nothing else.
V
“Where are we going?” Miriam asked. They were walking briskly, but not fast enough to draw attention to themselves. They were in one of the narrow back streets, now a good three blocks from the Forum.
Simeon didn’t answer, but just then took a quick turn into a recessed doorway. There on the step were four folded robes. He grabbed the top one and handed it to Miriam. “Here. Put this on. Put the hood up.” He grabbed another and handed it to Livia. The third went to Drusus. As they started putting them on, Simeon shrugged out of his smelly tunic. Then he rubbed quickly at the blackened tooth, and it became as normal as the others. He reached up and tugged at his head. The greasy thatch of black hair pulled away, and he flung it aside. Miriam saw that he had smeared soot around the edges of his own hair so it would blend into the wig. She had to smile. In the dim light of the narrow street, Simeon looked like a Roman dandy who had dyed his hair yellow but had forgotten the edges.
As Simeon pulled his robe on, Miriam realized these were the robes worn by initiates of Isis. The temple of the Egyptian goddess was just a few blocks from where they were. The mystical religion was making remarkable inroads in Rome and such initiates were a common sight in the city.
Simeon looked at the three of them, then grinned. “Good. You look appropriately humble. Keep your heads covered until we’re out of the city.”
“What about Ezra?” Miriam wanted to know.
“We’ll link up with him in a couple of hours.” He slowed the pace a little, more in keeping with the office they supposedly represented. “Our hope is that your guards will spend the next hour trying to find out what happened to you. Then, if all goes as planned, they’ll return to your apartment, thinking that maybe they just lost you. By tonight, they’ll realize you’re gone, but by then we’ll be well on our way east.”
“East?” Livia said in surprise. She had expected west or south, the closest way to the coast.
“Once the guards realize you’ve disappeared, they’ll alert Marcus’s father. He’s a wealthy and powerful man. After promising Mordechai to keep you guarded, he’ll see this as a blot on the family’s honor. By tomorrow I’m sure he’ll have searchers along every main road, at every port, especially Ostia. They’ll assume we’re trying to get a ship out of there.”
“We thought maybe we’d have to go to Puteoli,” Miriam said.
“Still too obvious,” Simeon answered. “We’ll go east, over the mountains. There are no major roads between here and the coast of the Adriatic Sea. We’ll travel only by night until we are well away from here. In a few days, maybe as much as a week, we’ll reach the coast. There’s a major highway between Ravenna and Brundisium.” He stopped. “Do you know where that is?”
Surprisingly, it was Drusus who answered. “Italia is like a great boot, with the heel and toe far to the south of us. Brundisium is on the heel of the boot.”
Simeon was impressed. “That’s right. They’ll never think to look for us in that direction. From Brundisium it’s a short sail over to Greece. Then we’ll continue overland to Athens. From Athens we’ll take passage on a ship to Tyre or Sidon. By then, I’m sure the Didius family will have alerted Marcus and your father to what has happened. They may be watching the ports in Israel, so we’ll again go by land over that final leg to Capernaum.” Simeon knew that Mordechai would suspect that Miriam might go to the Galilee and send someone there too, but he didn’t say that. The Galilee was Simeon’s territory, and his father and Ephriam would be alert.
His mouth pulled down with concern. “It’s a long way to walk, but we think it is the safest way.”
Miriam felt her eyes start to burn again. “We’ll walk the entire way if you say,” she exclaimed softly. “You came. We’re free. That’s all that matters.”
VI
East of Rome
They stopped briefly at a tavern, where Simeon washed the soot out of his hair, shaved off the heavy stubble of his beard, and changed into a fresh tunic. Two hours later they shed their novitiates’ robes just inside the east gate of the city, then walked through it without anyone taking any particular notice of them. A mile into the countryside, a figure suddenly stepped out from a grove of trees.
“Ezra!” Miriam cried. She broke into a run and threw herself into his arms. He picked her up and swung her around joyously. Finally he set her down again. “I am so glad you’re safe, Ezra. Simeon told us what you were doing.”
“Any trouble?” Simeon asked.
“None,” came the answer. “I’m sure they were two very surprised guards when they finally saw that you had all disappeared, but I was long gone by then.” He turned to Miriam again. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Now we are. Thank you, Ezra. I knew you would come.”
He turned and disappeared into the trees and a few moments later returned with a small carriage pulled by a pair of average looking horses. There were two traveling cases in the carriage. As Ezra pulled the carriage onto the road, he looked at Miriam and Livia. “I wish I had Lilly here to help me buy some clothes for you, but hopefully they’ll be close to your size. We also have some personal items for you. If I’ve missed anything, I’ll slip into the first village and purchase what you need.”
“We’ll take whatever you have,” Livia said.
Miriam nodded her agreement, then asked him, “How is Lilly, Ezra?”
A huge grin split Ezra’s face. “We have a baby girl.”
“But—” Then she cried out for joy. “Of a truth, Ezra? I didn’t even know Lilly was—”
“I know,” Ezra said, taking her hand. “Simeon told me that none of our letters got through to you.”
“A baby. After all these years.” She shook her head in wonder. “Lilly must be ecstatic.”
“Much more than that. She positively glows.” Ezra was beaming too. “We named her Miriam, in honor of a courageous and wonderful woman we both know.”
“Really!” She felt like crying and laughing and cheering all at once. It was as though a blast of wind had blown away the clouds of noxious fumes that had hung over them for months. “I can’t believe it. It is all just too wonderful.”
She turned to Simeon to express her thanks, but he cut her off before she could speak. “We have to keep moving now. Perhaps in the next few days there will be time to talk and make things right between us again.”
“What you have done today is enough.”
Chapter Notes
Though officially only a minor festival in the Jewish calendar, Hanukkah (which was still about two and half months away at this point in the story), was one of the most popular of the holidays. Hanukkah, which means “dedication,” celebrated the successful revolt of the Jews in 168 b.c. against the Greek kings who had ruled Israel. One of those kings, Antiochus Epiphanes, decided to stamp out the religion of the Jews. He forced the worship of the Greek gods on his subjects and made any observance of the Mosaic Law punishable by death. He even went so far as to have his soldiers force their way into the temple in Jerusalem. They set up an idol and had apostate priests sacrifice pigs to it, an unbelievable abomination to the faithful. That had sparked the revolt. Led by a priest named Judas Maccabaeus, the Jews fought back and eventually drove the Greeks out.
Therein lay the beginnings of Hanukkah. When Judas Maccabaeus recaptured the Temple Mount, he immediately set about to purify the temple so that once again the worship of Jehovah could resume. The purification ritual took eight full days, and a significant part of the ritual involved the great menorah, or sacred candelabra, that provided the only light inside the temple. It was massive, taller than a man, and on the top of each of its seven branches was a large cup for specially purified olive oil. However, when Judas entered the temple on the twenty-fifth of Kislev, 165 b.c. (which occurs in early December on our calendar) he found only one jar of oil that had not been desecrated by the Greeks. It was enough to burn for only one day. Purifying more oil also involved an eight-day process. Rather than waiting an additional week to rededicate the temple, Judas Maccabaeus lit the sacred menorah anyway. Miraculously, the one-day supply of oil continued to burn for the entire eight days until the new supply was prepared.
Because of that, Hanukkah was also called the Feast of Lights. Part of the commemoration of that miracle involved lighting eight candles or small oil lamps, one each day for eight days in remembrance of the eight days of purification.
Hanukkah (the Feast of Dedication, or the Feast of Lights) is still celebrated by the Jewish community today, almost twenty-two hundred years after the one-day supply of oil miraculously burned for eight continuous days (see Jacobs, 118–21; Wouk, 75–76).
Chapter 30
Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, ye righteous: and shout for joy, all ye that are upright in heart.
—Psalm 32:11
I
On the Adriatic coast of Italia 7 October, a.d. 31
Crossing the rocky spine of Italia proved to be far more difficult than Simeon had expected. For the first two days, they followed well-traveled roads eastward, laying over in the woods by day and moving forward only by night. With all of the walking Miriam, Livia, and Drusus had done everyday in the city, they were able to hold up quite well. The carriage was large enough to carry only two people—the driver and one passenger—so they took turns walking. As they continued eastward, the roads began to peter out. Main roads became narrow farm roads and narrow farm roads gave way to barely discernible wagon tracks. Finally the carriage was abandoned. They were tempted to keep the horses, but finally decided it would make them too conspicuous. They took only what they could carry and moved deeper into the mountains. By then, they felt safe enough to start traveling by day, sleeping out in the open by night. The climb became steeper, and eventually even the few shepherds’ paths ended and they had nothing but open wilderness.
It was roughly a hundred miles from Rome up and over the mountains to the eastern coast. That took them almost a week. As they descended toward the eastern coast, they found people again, but far fewer than before. The highway that ran along the eastern coast of Italia was a typical Roman road, well maintained and graded to drain off heavy rainfall, even though this part of the province was for the most part sparsely settled. Once they reached the road, the first mile marker they came to showed that they were still one hundred sixty-eight miles from Brundisium, the port that was their destination.
For the first time in almost a week, they stopped at an isolated, rustic roadside inn and took lodging for the night. Never had Miriam reveled in such luxury. She and Livia shared a simple straw mattress, probably crawling with fleas and ticks. There was a dinner of roast venison; hard, round loaves of bread; and as many vegetables as they could eat. There was a roaring fire in the huge fireplace in the dining room. And for five sesterces, the innkeeper’s wife kept a rusted iron tub filled with tepid water so that one by one they each had a private bath. After a week of sleeping on the ground in the open, rain, cold, or sunshine, it was heaven itself. Most importantly, the innkeeper agreed to sell them a small rickety cart to carry their belongings and a horse to pull it.
II
Miriam stood up from the table. That brought Ezra’s eyes open with a start. He had fallen asleep three different times during dinner. At the look Miriam gave him, he grinned sheepishly. “I give up. I’m going to bed.”
He and Simeon and Drusus shared one room behind the quarters of the innkeeper. Livia and Miriam shared a small bedroom in the loft above. Yawning mightily, Ezra stood and stretched, then stumbled away.
Livia looked at Miriam for a moment, then stood as well. “Come, Drusus. It’s time for us to retire too.”
He started to say something, but a look from his sister cut him off. He got up and the two of them left the room. Miriam looked at Simeon, who was staring into the fire. As the door shut, he turned to her. “What about you?” he asked. “Are you tired yet?”
She shook her head. “Actually, I was thinking of stepping outside for a little while. It’s a beautiful night.”
“Do you mind if I join you?”
She gave him a fleeting smile. “We have been studiously avoiding any opportunity to talk. It’s probably time we did, don’t you think?”
“I do. I’ve thought about it several times, but . . . ” He shrugged. “It’s time.”
She stood, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders. He watched her for a moment, then stood and followed her out.
The quarter moon would not be up for at least another hour, but there were no clouds, and as they walked slowly down the short path that led to the Roman road, their eyes adjusted to the starlight. When they had arrived earlier that evening, Miriam had noted a huge old oak tree near where the entrance to the inn joined the road. She moved beneath its generous branches, found a round rock that was partially buried, and sat down. Simeon dropped to a crouch facing her. He smoothed a place in the dirt with his hand and then sat down as well.
Both were quiet for almost a minute, staring out into the darkness, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Miriam stirred. “Simeon?”
He turned his head.
“I don’t want you to think that you have to say anything about that night you came to see me. That’s over. You don’t have to explain.”
He grunted softly, and she couldn’t tell if it was from relief or frustration.
“I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you.”
“Really?” he said with a sardonic smile. “What should you have done? Whacked me with that poker?”
“You had no way of knowing everything that had happened.”
“True, and one of the gifts I have developed in my life is charging ahead full speed when I am not hampered with an overabundance of knowledge.”
She laughed. “A gift, huh?”
“Greatly perfected.”
“So,” she went on after a moment. “It’s over. There’s nothing to be gained by talking about it now.”
“That’s another of my gifts,” he drawled. “Talking about things when there’s nothing to be gained by it.”
“Really, Simeon. I wish we could go back and hold that conversation over again, but we can’t.” She had thought a lot about this and feared that the result of talking about that n
ight would only be more pain, more awkwardness, more feeling like a fool. “I would really rather not.”
He took a deep breath, then finally nodded. “All right, I’ll respect that. Can I speak with you about something else?”
“If it really is something else.”
“Miriam, I would like to say something. Actually, three things. I am tempted to ask you not to say anything until I finish, but that wouldn’t be fair to you. So you can break in and disagree with me at any time.”
She almost said something glib, but the somberness in his face stopped her. “I’m listening.”
He took another deep breath, looking directly at her now. “Let me do the most unpleasant one first.”
“Oh, dear.” She found herself tensing for what he might say next.
“I’m afraid this is not over for you, Miriam. Your father is a powerful, wealthy man, with enormous influence both with our own people and with the Romans. He’s not going to take your disappearance lightly.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I’ve thought about little else since we left.”
“He’ll eventually figure out that you are with us and headed for Capernaum.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think he’ll try to do anything to hurt you. At least not physically. Despite all that has happened, I still think he loves you as his daughter.”
“I’m not so sure.” Then she shook her head. “No, that’s not true. For all he has done, I still love him as my father, so I suppose he still loves me too.”
“He will send someone to try to bring you back. He will definitely take action to see if he can’t stop Jesus, so that you have nothing to follow anymore. In his mind, that would solve at least one of his problems.”
“It makes me sick to think that I might bring some kind of retaliation down on Jesus.”