by Bodie Thoene
“Who? I? Never!”
“Since we have proved ourselves to be honest men in a world of thieves and gougers, let’s get on with the business at hand. You owe me two shekels, and I owe you one spavined donkey.” Nakdimon extended his hand to receive payment.
“But no, your honor!” The hawker evidently remembered the true reason he had taken a seat at the great man’s fountain. “Truly the Almighty was guiding you to me as we bargained in the caravansary! You are most fortunate that it was I, myself, who loaned you my beast! Never was a man as blessed as you, sir!”
“No doubt you’re the most honest of peddlers,” Nakdimon conceded. “But I have work to attend to, if you don’t mind. . . .”
“But no! I’ve brought news to you, sir! News that may save your life and the lives of your wife and children. Perhaps news that will save the lives of the rulers of Israel if I am allowed to speak boldly.”
“Speak. Please,” Nakdimon said impatiently.
“It’s this way, sir. You may wish to go before the council to tell what I tell you.”
“Tell me.”
“Sure. You’re as good as any man on the council. And big enough you’ll be harder to kill than the others too.”
“What do you mean?” Was this fellow simply prating on in hopes of reward? Nakdimon wondered. “Be short.”
“I’m not a tall man, so I will be short. But the news I have is big.”
“Then speak briefly or I’ll call the cook, who is enormous, and together we’ll throw you out as an intruder.”
“The cook again?”
“She’s bigger than I am. Now. Out with it. Or out with you.”
The hawker sucked his blackened teeth and nodded, as if sobered by the thought of a woman bigger than Nakdimon ben Gurion.
“Well, sir, here it is. They mean to murder you.”
“Who?” Nakdimon eyed him with renewed interest.
“You. Yourself. Everyone of the Sanhedrin they can lay hold of. And wives and children as well.”
“I mean, who are these assassins?”
“Rebels.”
“Have they names?”
“Bar Abba, for one. This news is worth a coin or two, I’d say.”
Nakdimon grasped the hawker by his throat. “So you’re an informer. You must be one of them, or how would you know such a thing?”
The hawker squealed. “No, sir! I swear it! I’m just what I seem to be!”
“A liar?”
“An honest hawker, sir!”
“You admit to being a cheat, then?”
“A man intent on doing a good deed.”
“Then do it. Quickly. Before I lose patience. Tell what you know and how you came to know it!” Nakdimon released his grip.
The man, gasping for breath, sat back and rubbed his throat. “Being a man in the trade I’m in, sir, I am here and there. There and here. In inns and among travelers in need. This is high season for my business, sir. I’ve been among the people as you would expect. And I came upon three members of bar Abba’s army: Asher, Kittim, and bar Abba’s captain, Dan the well-known murderer.”
“Where?”
“In the shade of an oak outside Sepphoris.”
“And?”
“They were talking politics with a Galilean fellow. Recruiting him to join them. And they tried to recruit me too.”
“It’s a long way from politics to murder.”
“Shorter than you think. But the knives I sold them were long bladed. Knives from Persia. They thanked me and said such weapons were perfect for carving up the corrupt men who sat on the Council of the Sanhedrin. The curve of the blade would hook a fellow’s intestines, they said, and pull them out a very small wound.” He frowned and rubbed his round belly. “I think they’re serious.”
“Half the men in Galilee hate the rulers in Yerushalayim,” Nakdimon remarked. “Why would you think they’ll carry through?”
“They say they’ll be among you and you’ll never see them until you stumble on your own guts. It gave me a start, I can tell you. I couldn’t eat my noonday meal for thinking about it.”
“And how many are there?”
“From the sound of it, half of Galilee, like you said. I saw the three. And then the young fellow clapped hands with them in a bargain and also bought a knife. That makes four. But word on the street is that every fourth man may be one of them.”
“You made out well on the deal,” Nakdimon glowered.
“I’m a hawker, sir.”
“When will this plot be hatched, hawker?”
“They didn’t say what moment. Only that they’ll be watching the council chambers for the right time.”
“You know enough you might be one of them.”
“I’m no rebel.”
“You smell of death.”
The hawker sniffed his armpits. “Well, bathing costs money, sir. There’s hardly a place to bathe between here and Sepphoris.”
This fellow was too dense to be dangerous, Nakdimon conceded. “What do you hope to get from me for this information?”
“To be honest, sir, two shekels. It seems fair enough.”
“Two shekels? High price for words. For that you’ll have to repeat your story.”
“I’ll tell it again.”
Zacharias entered the portico and bowed slightly. “The beast is ready to be taken away, sir.”
Nakdimon glared at the wretched man sitting by the fountain. “You’ll come with me then. Three days from now. To the chambers of the Sanhedrin and tell them what you know.”
“Oh no, sir!” The hawker drew back in terror. “Didn’t you hear what I’ve said to you? They’ll be watching the council chambers. Waiting for you! They’ll see me! They’ll know I’ve come to tell you what I heard!” He dropped to his knees and groveled before Nakdimon.
“And then they’ll pull your bowels out with the knives you’ve sold them, is that it?”
The man began to blubber. “Yes! Yes, sir! They’ll kill me like one of those lambs. And me, just trying to do a good deed!”
This was no act. The hawker was genuinely terrified. His terror was the confirmation of the truth in his tale.
“All right, then.”
“Oh thank you! Thank you, sir!” The hawker began to kiss Nakdimon’s feet.
Nakdimon pushed him away. “Enough. The high priest will want to hear what you have to say. Where are you staying?”
“Here and there. There and here. Among the people.”
“There’s an inn beside Sheep’s Gate. You’ll stay there until I send for you.” Nakdimon snapped his fingers. “Zacharias, accompany our friend to Sheep’s Gate Inn. Pay the proprietor to make him comfortable. To feed him three meals a day. To keep him locked safely in the room on the second story and tell no one he is there.”
Again the hawker fawned in gratitude, seemingly uncaring that he was being made a prisoner.
After the previous night’s encounter with Asher, Emet stayed close to Migdal Eder. Though he told no one about the rebels, he was still frightened. It kept him inside the lambing barn, where he felt safer.
While sheltered inside the grotto Emet practiced tying. It wasn’t perfected yet, but Bear’s bonnet remained in place longer each time.
It was while renewing this exercise near evening that Emet overheard a conversation he wasn’t intended to hear. In a vacant pen three rows back from the lamplit passage, the boy was shorter than the railing and almost invisible.
Evidently, Jehu smarted from criticism leveled at him by Zadok over the incident at Siloam Tower. When he stormed into the caverns with Ephraim and Meshach trailing after, it was clear he was boiling mad. After a cursory examination convinced him no one other than Lev was present, he launched into his complaints.
“What’s happened to Zadok?” he fumed to his followers. “Has he lost his courage? Taking the side of Romans and apostates against his own people?”
“It’s bad enough the aqueduct defiles the land, but destroying the pasture as well?” put in
Ephraim. “That centurion may say he’ll correct the problem, but you can’t trust him! Nothing will really change. You’ll see.”
“I know it,” Jehu growled. “Nor will it stop there! Watch: in less than a year Migdal Eder’s best grassland will all be trampled! That cursed aqueduct!”
Ephraim added, “And lambs continue to disappear! It hasn’t stopped because Zadok made a deal with the Romans.”
“You know,” Meshach said with a lowered voice and a glance around that suggested he had an ominous secret to share, “the water in the Roman canal will pollute the sacrifices.”
“What?” Jehu demanded. “What do you mean?”
Nodding vigorously, Meshach explained. “I heard it from my cousin Rehoboam, who got it from his best friend, Amaziah: part of the aqueduct crosses a cemetery!”
Emet peered between the slats of the pen to watch the response.
“Are you certain?” Jehu inquired.
Meshach thumped himself on the ear. “May my brains be turned to steam if it isn’t so! Across a graveyard! Not only is the water in the channel polluted, but it will defile every drop in the Temple cisterns! All our care to provide spotless lambs will be worthless!”
“Someone needs to do something!” Ephraim insisted. “We should tell Zadok about this.”
“That’s right,” agreed Lev, speaking for the first time. “Zadok will tell the high priest. And he’ll make the Romans stop.”
“You will not tell Zadok,” Jehu insisted, rounding sharply on the lambing barn attendant. “He’ll find a way to compromise again. He’s getting too old! And too soft to be chief shepherd.”
Lev looked dubious. “But the appointment is for life,” he objected dully. “Zadok will always be chief shepherd . . . till he dies.”
Was there a hint of hopefulness in that? Emet wondered. He squeezed his eyes shut and wished he were somewhere else. Bear nuzzled beneath Emet’s arm. Emet buried his face against the lamb’s soft fleece. Perhaps being able to hear was not such a fine thing at moments like these. The word betrayal popped into Emet’s mind.
“Look,” Jehu argued in a softer tone. “Lev, you’re a clever fellow. That’s why we took you into our confidence, eh? Zadok talks to you about his plans when he doesn’t speak to the rest of us. And you’ll tell us what he says, won’t you? It’s for his own good, you know.”
“I don’t know,” Lev countered. “Isn’t that like spying?”
“Lev,” Ephraim offered in a wheedling tone, “if that centurion hadn’t interfered, we’d have driven the stoneworkers away and stopped the ruin of the pasture . . . isn’t that right?”
“I guess so,” Lev responded.
“Of course it’s so,” Meshach seconded. “You should have seen them ducking from our slingstones! Cracked that son of Oren the stonecutter right on the head.” He smacked his hands together.
The noise made Emet jump. Bear bleated and backed away, scampering across the pen to Old Girl. Emet was glad that the rustle of straw his movement caused couldn’t be distinguished from the other crunching sounds made by the ewes and their lambs.
“If that Roman hadn’t interfered . . . ,” Meshach continued.
“But Zadok has taken sides with the centurion . . . which means, with the defilers, right?” Ephraim noted. “We have to help him. But how can we if we don’t know what he’s thinking . . . what he’s planning?”
“But don’t say anything to Zadok . . . just listen and tell us,” Jehu put in sharply. “Got it?”
Lev agreed.
“We need,” said Lev slowly, “a big earthquake to knock that tower down. Then everyone would see how offended the Almighty is. And the whole thing would stop.”
Jehu and the others exchanged tolerant looks. The Almighty didn’t often express His displeasure in such ways. But let Lev think what he wanted. Lev would be of use to their purposes. “Knock the whole thing down,” Jehu concurred. “Let the Gentiles and the apostates pack up and get off our land for good!”
Even though Jehu and his two friends left right away, Emet didn’t emerge from his corner until he heard Lev working at the far end of the stalls. Then he slipped out unseen and went home.
Tonight Avel sat close to Zadok at the watch fire. “And David slew the lion with his sling. A rare thing nowadays for a lion to threaten a flock. There were plenty of quiet nights when David learned to sing. Sheep like music, I think.”
Emet and Ha-or Tov, with the black lamb curled up between them, dozed as the old man told stories of long-ago shepherds. Emet had dreamed terrible dreams the night before. He had quaked and started throughout the day, yet would not give the reason why. At last he had fallen into a sound sleep. It was a good thing, Avel thought.
But Avel hung on every word out of Zadok’s mouth. In this way they passed the night.
Already several lambings had gone easily. Ewes and new babies were settled and safe in their pens.
And there were more stars than Avel had seen in one sky.
“So this is what David meant when he sat here on this hill and praised the glory of God’s creation,” Zadok said. “In all the world only one creature doesn’t easily recognize God in creation: man. Our eyes turn inward to our own thoughts, backwards to a word, an insult, a gesture from another, until we can’t see the now. In Yerushalayim, in the city, when we go there, you’ll see it on their faces. They’re taking on burdens not their own, like a servant stuffing his marketing bag with stones. They turn their minds toward objects and away from the God who made them. That’s what was meant when the Lord commanded that we have no other gods before him. Business. Family squabbles. Gossip. Disapproval. The next big deal. Men arrange. Their plans go wrong. They rearrange. It’s seldom what they hoped it would be. They are disappointed. Or they’re satisfied with mediocrity when there is much more joy to be grasped by simply looking around and remembering to praise God!”
Zadok reached his gnarled hand toward the stars in a gesture that reminded Avel of Yeshua that night in the hills of Galilee. “Look at it,” Zadok breathed in awe. “And yet for most of mankind not one single hour of one day is spent in the pure wonder and praise of being alive!” He gestured toward the torches on the parapets of distant Herodium. “Humans who dwell in towers of stone are fleeting shadows against the walls. They pass through corridors of power and vanish. Names and achievements are forgotten after one generation. Only the stones remain where they used to be. A house. A room. Someone else living there. They who live a life without praising God for constellations and sunsets live without living! They miss the joy of standing in awe beneath the stars God made for their pleasure because they are thinking of yesterday and worrying about tomorrow. They can’t see what is beyond themselves . . . to now! Do y’ know what I’m saying, child?” Zadok held Avel in his gaze. “Listen!”
Avel nodded, listening to the creak of the world in the night. It was a sort of harmony. Music too deep for words. “I hear it.”
“Yes! Yes! Now you’re alive! See the miracle of your own hands. A beautiful creation, hands. Babies sit and stare in wonder for hours at little fingers. I always admired that about my own babies.”
Avel studied his hands. Dirt beneath his nails. The scar on his thumb. The pattern of lines on his palms. The way his fingers moved at his unspoken desire. Yes. Miraculous. Worthy of amazement. Of praise, even.
Zadok’s face glowed with pleasure at Avel’s understanding. “To comprehend this is to understand the heart of a shepherd. He says to his flock: ‘Now you are safe! What have you to fear at this moment? If there is danger I’ll protect y’. If you’re hungry, I’ll feed y’. If y’ thirst, I’ll lead y’ to water!’
“And this is what God, the Father who watches over his flock, wishes us to know.
“Now there is beauty shimmering in the night sky! It costs nothing. It cannot be bought or sold, and yet it is glory beyond measure! All around! Hear it as we shepherds have always heard it! How the air hums with the slow breathing of the sleeping flock. Remember! Yo
u’re sheep in his pasture. He cares for y’, child! Trust God for now. This moment, and this moment! One moment at a time. And that’ll get y’ through anything.”
The aged shepherd touched his scar and smiled, as if it contained evidence of that trust.
Avel glanced up at the sky as a meteor carved a blaze of light across the black vault of heaven.
“That’s the blessing of a shepherd’s life,” Zadok said softly. “Now the meteor streaks through the sky, and we alone in all the universe are privileged to see its passage. Now is all we’re promised. The past can’t be changed; the future may not exist for us. And yet most mankind dwells in one or the other. And so our Father in heaven whispers on the wind to us, both the shepherds and the flock, ‘Be still and know that I am God!’”
They passed the next hours one moment at a time. Avel had never felt such contentment. He felt a kinship with David, the shepherd boy who became the great king over Israel.
But it had all started here, in Beth-lehem.
It was nearly morning when the summons to Zadok and Avel arrived at Migdal Eder by way of a Temple courier on horseback. Zadok snapped open the dispatch and sighed as he silently read the words. Impressing his reply on the wax, he sent the rider back to the city.
“So, Avel. You and I are summoned to Yerushalayim. To the house of Nakdimon ben Gurion. He and Gamaliel of the Sanhedrin wish a word with the two of us about matters of grave importance. I have to know, boy, did y’ tell him the message you were sent to give me?”
“No, sir. Only that we were sent to Migdal Eder in Beth-lehem.”
“Good. It must remain locked in you.”
ELZERUBAVEL
The next day Avel and Zadok waited on the stone bench inside the atrium at Nakdimon ben Gurion’s house. Zadok put a finger to his lips, indicating that Avel must not speak unless he was addressed.
An elderly Ethiopian servant brought them large cool draughts of pressed apple cider to drink, a tray of dates and almonds, and water for washing. He knelt to remove Zadok’s shoes and washed the old shepherd’s feet. He left Avel to tend to himself.