“My apologies for disturbing you, sire,” Sextus said in a low voice, “but we have received word that the temple guard has just been called out.”
Marcus had reached up to rub at his stubbled chin, but his hand stopped in midair. “For what purpose?”
Sextus shook his old grizzled head. “I am trying to ascertain that now, sire.”
Marcus opened the door a little wider. “What time is it?”
“Approaching midnight.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“About an hour ago, according to the report.”
“Where did they go?”
“They were seen crossing the Temple Mount toward the east, but we are seeking to learn that as well, sire.”
“Have you told Pilate yet?”
“No, sire. That was one of my questions. Would you like me to inform the governor?”
Marcus considered the idea, then shook his head. “Not yet. Let’s get more information first.”
“Very good,” Sextus agreed. “Would you like me to bring you further word when it comes?”
Marcus sighed reluctantly. For a moment, he considered the offer. He thought about how good the bed had felt, how deeply he had been sleeping. He yawned again, this time giving it full sway. “No,” he said, “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“As you wish, sire.” His officer turned to leave.
“Sextus?”
He turned back. “Yes, sire?”
“Have my horse saddled and waiting, just in case.”
“As you wish, sire.”
Shutting the door, Marcus moved back across the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. Diana was sitting up. “Trouble?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Probably not. The festivals here are always like this. Something going on all the time that you have to keep an eye on.”
She reached out and began to rub his back. “Do you have to go?”
He laughed softly, leaning over to kiss her bare shoulder. “A good Roman matron would ask her man, ‘What can I do to help you get ready?’”
“I’m still learning about all of that,” she said, pretending to pout.
He kissed her again and stood up. “Unfortunately, the answer to your question is yes, I’d better go down. Hopefully, it will prove to be nothing, and I’ll be back in an hour or two. But if not, Pilate would have my head if I slept through it.”
She lay back down and pulled the covers up around her with a little shiver. “Does a good Roman matron have to still be awake when her husband returns?”
He took off his robe and moved to the wardrobe where his uniform hung. “Not if she’s still learning how to be a good matron,” he answered. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
II
Jerusalem, the Temple Mount
David entered Jerusalem through Zion’s Gate, the most direct route into the Upper City. That was where Simeon had left Miriam. Even though David knew that the temple guards would not likely be anywhere near where Simeon and Miriam had seen them, it was a place to start. Hopefully someone would have seen which way they went.
He rode slowly, stopping to ask the few people who were still out and about if they had seen the double column of guards. No one had. When he finally reached the western side of the temple complex with no more success than when he started, he found a place to tie his horse and climbed the great staircase up to the Temple Mount. To his immense relief, as he neared the top of the stairs, he heard a shout and looked to see Simeon waving at him.
Simeon, greatly relieved himself, explained quickly that he had had no success and finally decided to wait for his father, knowing that he would eventually come to the Temple Mount.
They strode swiftly across the plaza of the Court of the Gentiles as Simeon told him what little he knew. Passing through an opening in the soreg, or “wall of partition,” they turned slightly and headed for the eastern gate to the inner temple complex. Though the gates to the city remained open twenty-four hours a day, by this time of night the side gates to the inner courts of the temple were shut and barred and would remain so until morning. Only the main entrance on the east, the Gate Beautiful, remained open all night. Since it opened into the Court of the Women, the court that held the large brass chests into which contributions and the temple tax were thrown, Simeon assumed it would be guarded.
As they came around the corner of the temple complex on the east side, Simeon was gratified to see that his surmise was correct. There were two guards, leaning on their spears, talking lazily to one another, clearly bored with their night duty. But at the sight of the two approaching men, they both straightened.
“Shalom,” David called as they drew closer. “Good Sabbath.”
The men relaxed. These two were well-dressed men and seemed unlikely to pose a threat. “And good Sabbath to you.” The nearest one grinned mischievously at them. “You two are out pretty late. Too much celebration after the feast?”
Simeon laughed and pointed his finger at the man, as if they were sharing a private joke. “Well, something like that.”
“You here to make a contribution?” the other one asked sarcastically.
“In a way,” David answered back. “Actually, we’re looking for information, and if you happen to have it, the contribution would be for the two of you.”
Both men perked up noticeably. “Such as?” asked the second of the two.
Simeon grew more earnest. “About three hours ago, maybe more, a double column of your men left the palace of Annas. We were wondering if they had come by this way.”
The first man started to nod, but the second was suddenly suspicious. “Who wants to know?” he asked.
“We’re looking for a friend of ours who hasn’t returned home as yet.” David reached in his tunic, brought out two shekels, and began to slip them back and forth between his fingers so they made a metallic clinking sound. “I can’t imagine that the soldiers were after him.” He gave them a knowing look. “He’s basically harmless. But his family and friends are getting worried, if you know what I mean.”
The younger of the two hooted softly. “Too much wine, eh?”
David held out the coins, shrugging enigmatically. “It is Passover,” he noted.
The two coins were snatched away and quickly disappeared. The nearest man, who was the older of the two, answered. “They passed this way about two hours ago.”
Father and son exchanged quick glances. “Headed east?” Simeon asked.
“Well, they went out the east gate of the city headed for the Kidron Valley.”
“But you don’t know where they were going?” Simeon persisted.
The second shrugged. “Kind of hard to see through stone walls from here.” The first man guffawed loudly.
“Did they have anyone in their custody?” David asked.
“Not when we seen ’em,” came the reply.
Simeon and David exchanged another glance; then Simeon started backing away. “Thank you for your help. We’ll keep looking.”
“Lailah tov,” the one called out cheerfully.
“Lailah tov,” David said over his shoulder.
“Yes, good night,” said Simeon. They moved eastward, heading for the steps that led down to the Golden Gate and out of the city into the Kidron Valley.
Once the two strangers were out of earshot, the first man turned to his partner. “Why didn’t you tell them that we saw the detail again just an hour ago, headed back for the palace? And this time they did have someone in custody.”
“Because they only gave us one shekel apiece,” the other said. He grinned, but it faded quickly. “Shekel or no shekel, we’d best not be too loose with our tongues. Besides,” he went on, “didn’t you notice anything about those two?”
“What?”
“They were Galileans.”
“Well, of course. I could tell that the moment they spoke. So?” And then understanding came. “Oh,” he said slowly.
“What if this so-called friend t
hey were looking for is that Jesus of Nazareth?”
“It could likely be,” the other replied thoughtfully. “Well, if so, they’re too late to do anything for him now.”
III
Jerusalem, Upper City, the Praetorium 4 April, a.d. 33
It was just at the changing of the second watch, almost precisely at midnight, when the runner returned. He was not in uniform and wore a light cloak. Sextus had told Marcus that the runner, a Greek named Atticus, had been chosen for two reasons: he was known for his endurance and therefore was often used to send messages back and forth, and he also spoke fluent Aramaic, so he could make inquiries without meeting the resistance that faced all Romans.
Both tribune and centurion got to their feet as the man was ushered in by one of the guards at the front door. His face had a light sheen of perspiration on it, but he wasn’t breathing that heavily.
“Well?” Marcus demanded, before the man even stepped up before him. “Any success?”
“Aye, sire. I found them.”
“Good work. So what’s going on?”
“It was a column of twenty or so men, sent out by the Great Council as you had heard,” he reported. “They have arrested a man from Galilee by the name of Jesus of Nazareth.”
Sextus visibly started, but Marcus didn’t see it. He was too pleased with the news. “Jesus of Nazareth? You’re sure of that?”
“I saw him for myself,” came the reply. “They were on their way back to the Upper City. I was told they are going to put him on trial.”
“Tonight?” Sextus exclaimed.
The messenger half turned. “Yes, that is what the soldiers told me.”
“But the Sanhedrin is not supposed to be seated at night. Especially not during a feast day. It is considered a Sabbath to them.”
Marcus turned to his old associate, one eyebrow arching. “Really?” he said mildly. “I didn’t know that.”
“It’s part of their laws about the council, sire,” Sextus said, concerned that he had spoken before thinking.
Marcus nodded absently, then looked at the runner again. “Did they arrest anyone else?”
“No, sire. They only had the one man.”
Marcus bit his lip, thinking. So old Mordechai had finally gotten his way. They had Jesus. Well, good. He had wondered what was happening. Since that night following the disaster during the Feast of Tabernacles, he and the head of the Sadducees had not spoken. Relations between him and Mordechai were still strained.
He turned to his centurion. “I’m going back to bed for a while, Sextus.”
“Very good, sire.”
“But there could be trouble come morning when word of this gets out. Wake me precisely at dawn. Have the men up and ready. I’ll report to Pilate on the whole matter at breakfast.”
Sextus slapped his arm across his chest in salute. “Yes, sire.” He motioned to the messenger that he was no longer needed.
“Well done, Atticus,” Marcus called after him. “Sextus, see that he is given a suitable reward.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you, sire,” Atticus exclaimed.
“Let me know if there are any further developments,” Marcus said to Sextus. “Otherwise, I’ll see you in a few hours.”
IV
On the road to Bethany
“Surely they wouldn’t dare attack the house,” Simeon said, puffing heavily as they toiled up the steep slope of the Mount of Olives.
David slowed his step and pointed to a rock wall. “I need to rest for a moment, Simeon.” As he moved over to sit down, he continued, “I find it hard to believe that the Sanhedrin would send a contingent very far outside of the city. It’s not like them. And yet . . .”
Simeon nodded. He knew what David was thinking. If the temple guards had gone out the east gate, the most likely destination was Bethany and the house of Martha. Surely they would know by now where Jesus was staying. Simeon sat down by his father and wiped his brow. Even though their breath showed in the night chill, they were both perspiring from the swiftness of their walk.
“Maybe we should have gone back for the horses.”
Simeon was leaning forward, hands on his knees, drawing in deep breaths. “This was quicker.”
David nodded. He hadn’t really meant it. Horses were not allowed on the Temple Mount. It would have taken them a quarter hour to walk back to where they had left their animals, then another half an hour to ride them around the outside of the walls to the point where they now were. As it was, it had been only ten minutes since they spoke with the guards.
They sat quietly for a time, catching their breath; then David got to his feet. “I’m ready.”
“We can’t keep up this same pace,” Simeon said, standing beside his father. “Not up the hill anyway.”
“Agreed.” They fell into step together and started upward again, trudging with heavier steps.
They were no more than halfway up the western slope of the Mount of Olives when Simeon stopped, reaching out to grab his father’s arm. “Someone’s coming,” he whispered. He pulled, and they quickly stepped off the road into the shadows of a large olive tree.
For a moment, Simeon’s hopes soared. He could tell from the crunch of sandals on gravel that more than one man was approaching. But a moment later, his hopes plummeted again. A dozen or so men approached the olive tree, but none of the men were soldiers. They were walking swiftly, talking in great animation to each other.
David stiffened. “That’s Andrew,” he said when a deep voice boomed out.
With a soft exclamation of pleased surprise, Simeon stepped out into the moonlight again. “Ho!” he cried. “Andrew, it’s Simeon and David ben Joseph.”
At the sight of a figure suddenly appearing out of the night, the men coming down had stopped short. But with Simeon’s call, they hurried forward.
Simeon’s face fell as he scrutinized each face and realized that Jesus was not among them.
“Simeon,” Andrew said, clasping hands firmly, “I’m so glad to see you.” He half turned. “Shalom, David.”
Simeon peered at the men in the faint light. There were no women, and Simeon realized it was the inner circle of disciples who had been with Jesus during the last few days. The apostles were there, of course, as were Luke the Physician, Matthias, Joseph Barsabas, John Mark, and several disciples from the Galilee. Then with a start, Simeon realized that Peter was not with them. Nor John.
“There’s been bad trouble,” Andrew said, noting Simeon’s dismay. “Jesus has been arrested.”
Simeon fell back. That was the news he had dreaded most. “I saw some of the temple guards. Judas was leading them.”
Philip stepped forward. One hand passed over his eyes. “At the supper, Jesus warned us that one of us would betray him. We had no idea what he meant.”
“Judas led them straight to Jesus,” James said bitterly.
“Where’s Peter? Did they take him too?”
“No,” Andrew said. “They let us all go. Peter and John are following after the Master to see where they are taking him. We went back to Bethany to get help.”
“Any idea where they might be going?” Simeon asked.
“Nathanael overheard them say something about the palace of Annas.”
“Yes,” Simeon blurted. “That’s where I first saw the guards.”
David turned to his son. “You go with them. I’ll cut around and get the horses and ride back to Bethlehem. I can be back with more helpers by first light.”
“The women in Bethany, along with some additional men, will be coming in to Jerusalem at the same time,” Andrew said. “Right now they are spreading the word. We want to have as many come into the city as possible.”
Simeon hesitated only for a moment. They needed Ephraim and Benjamin, every man they could muster. And his mother and Miriam and the others would never be content to stay in Bethlehem once they heard the news. Andrew was right. The more people they had, the better. “All right. Come to the palace
of Annas first. We’ll watch for you or leave someone to tell you where we are.”
As his father broke into a trot down the hill, Simeon turned back to the group. “All right. Tell us what you want us to do.”
V
Jerusalem, Upper City, Palace of Annas
For a long time after Simeon and Miriam left, Mordechai stood alone in one of the side rooms of the palace of Annas. He went out briefly when the contingent of guards finally came, making sure that Malchus and Caleb were properly instructed and that the Judas fellow was with them; but then he returned to the darkened room and stood staring at the window.
His emotions ran the gamut. It was a rare man who didn’t want to see his family perpetuated, spreading from children to grandchildren and then to great-grandchildren. But in the Jewish culture, having lineage took on special significance. Having seed to carry on your name and your property and your legacy was one of life’s highest goals. If a man had a wife who was barren, he could divorce her and no one would question it. So as Mordechai thought about having a grandchild, he felt a deep relief and a quiet satisfaction. With it, however, came the bitter realization that this would be his seed in a literal sense only. He doubted that the rift between him and his daughter could ever be healed now. Her betrayal was too deep, too final, too utterly treacherous. And when this night was over, assuming things went as planned, Miriam would know that it was her father who had been the chief architect in the destruction of Jesus. There would be no reconciliation after that. The only thing that gave him a kind of savage satisfaction was knowing that, with the death of Jesus, his grandson—or granddaughter—would not be raised as a follower of the Nazarene.
Menachem came in once to report that they had heard nothing as yet, but Mordechai suspected that he also wanted to make sure everything was all right. Annas himself came a little while later. Mordechai put them off, letting them think his obvious anxiety simply grew from what was happening. No one besides the servant knew about Miriam’s visit, and he wanted to keep it that way.
His head came up as he heard a disturbance outside in the courtyard. He pulled back the drapes, then opened the shutters wider so he could see what was going on below. A man was running toward the house. “They’re coming!” he called to the servant watching the door. “Tell Annas that they’re back.”
Fishers of Men Page 165