The Daggerman

by Glenn Starkey

  Hanan sat stone-faced, staring at the little man. “I’m too tired for riddles. Speak your mind. If you have news I should know, tell me. You will be paid handsomely as always.”

  “Sir, I do not tell you for money. This is something that threatens us all.”

  Leaning forward, Hanan lifted the wine jar and filled both of their cups. “Go ahead. You have my attention.”

  Simcha looked about the veranda as if eavesdroppers were near.

  “Our numbers have grown to the size of a small army. I’ve been told some wish to splinter off and add men to their ranks under the name of the Sicarii. This would be in preparation for taking greater actions against the Romans and villagers who assist them in any manner. While you have been careful to ensure we vanish into the night after a mission, there are men who say we must openly initiate full attacks against our enemies and no longer conceal our names and faces.”

  Outwardly, Hanan appeared calm yet beneath the façade, a volcano existed on the verge of eruption. His green eyes studied Simcha for signs of deception.

  “We have instilled fear in many, but what these men you speak of do not understand is open revolt now will only end in failure. Three or four hundred men warring against trained Roman legions is futile. The Empire will bring their full might against us. Do you have the names of those who are demanding greater action?”

  “They are mostly young men whose fathers were Zealots killed by the Romans. They have not been in the Sicarii long, but they want revenge more than justice for our people. I was given several names but want to be sure before speaking them. I thought you needed to know before the kettle boils over and scalds us all.”

  Hanan drank his wine and sat in his chair gazing out at the orchards. Simcha finished his wine and motioned to the jar, waiting for approval to have more. Without glancing his way, Hanan nodded then spoke.

  “Revolt is coming, but without unity and proper planning, it will be a short-lived war for us. I’ve been away on business, but I’ve heard people in towns speak of their hatred of the Gentiles, the constant rise in their taxes, and the rampant corruption in the temple. A revolt may come soon or take years to arrive, but with men recklessly wanting war now, we are doomed.”

  Simcha upended his cup, gulped the wine down and wiped his mouth with a dirty sleeve of his robe. “Let me see if I can identify these young leaders so there is no mistake when you wish to approach them.”

  He watched Hanan rise and walk into the house, then return carrying a small bag.

  “You’ve done a great service for me, Simcha.” Hanan dropped the bag on the table. It landed with a thud and clink of coins. “Learn more and tell no one except me.”

  “Only from my lips to your ears, Mast—I mean Hanan.” The operative stood, slipped the coin bag beneath his robe, and left.

  Hanan watched until Simcha was gone from sight down the road. Rubbing his face with both hands, Hanan exhaled in a hard blast and wearily shook his head.

  What else can go wrong? he thought.

  Chapter Seventeen

  District of Judea

  Sunday, Month of Nisan, Day 9

  Yeshua chose to stop near a stream for the night though they were less than two hours from Jerusalem. With dusk drawing near, camp preparations remained to be made before dark set upon them. Everyone needed to be rested for their entry into the city tomorrow.

  The day’s travel from Bethany had been without problems, but the day itself had been wearisome. At noon Yeshua and his disciples arrived at his deceased friend’s house. The family greeted them with grief and anger. Lazarus had died three days before and buried on the fourth. Although, summoned, Yeshua hadn’t come until today. Seeing the depth of their sorrow, Yeshua wept, surprising his followers for they had never known him to cry. But at the entrance of the tomb, he stood and called out for Lazarus to come forth... and he did. When they left, Martha, one of Lazarus’ sisters, again proclaimed: “I believe you are the Messiah, the Son of our God, Elohim, who is to come into the world.”

  Now, having finished their meager meal of bread, fruit, and water from the stream, they relaxed about a small fire. Little talk passed between them. An uneasiness gradually consumed each man the closer they drew to Jerusalem. Yeshua may be greeted by the masses with reverence for the miracles he performed or as a villain of the faithful for his declarations against the temple’s Sanhedrin council. And there were his foreboding words of how the prophecies would be fulfilled.

  A waxing moon climbed into the heavens among the stars; its far-left edge draped by a black crescent yet bathing the landscape in ample light to see by. Within a few days, a full moon would rise and blanket the land with enough light to travel or work by if necessary.

  The disciples drew comfort from the moonlight. It kept their despondent thoughts about Jerusalem at bay and allowed them to see anyone approaching the camp, especially robbers or temple guards seeking their arrests. But they never expected the arrival of a lone shepherd boy who quietly walked to their fire and stood staring at them.

  Peter saw him first and leaped to his feet. About the camp fire the other disciples quickly rose, confused as to what was amiss. Yeshua calmly remained on his blanket and watched the boy of twelve or thirteen years look about the men as if searching for someone.

  “Are you lost, boy? Do you need help?” Peter asked, his gaze drifting over the young man’s head for signs of robbers advancing toward them.

  The slender boy remained silent then looked at Yeshua.

  “My master sent me to find the Rabbi and ask him to come talk,” the shepherd boy boldly said.

  Yeshua slowly rose and walked to him. “May I ask your master’s name before I go with you?”

  “A priest of the council who only wishes to talk. That is all I am to say.”

  “It may be a trap, Teacher. Bandits may be waiting. Let us all go with you,” Matthew said, his eyes glancing about the surrounding land.

  Yeshua grinned and turned to his followers. “I will be safe. This young man will protect me. Won’t you?” He smiled and patted the shepherd boy on the shoulder. “Let us go to your master.”

  ***

  Yeshua followed the boy for several minutes as he led the way along the road then angled toward a row of trees by the flowing stream. Beneath the wide spread branches of an ancient olive tree sat a stooped, bearded man in the flowing robe and headdress of a Sanhedrin priest. He sat upon a large rock, staring into a campfire with hands stretched to the flames for warmth. To the far side of the fire stood a donkey nibbling at stubs of grass in the rough ground. The donkey raised its head, ears perked and brayed when its owner drew near.

  The priest saw their approach and groaned as he stood.

  “Thank you, Eli,” the old man said, pulling the front of his robe closed for warmth against the chill of the wilderness night. He watched the boy go rub and scratch the donkey’s head then faced Yeshua. “I appreciate you coming to talk, Rabbi. My name is Nicodemus and as you’ve already been told, I’m with the temple council. Please. Come sit with me. I apologize for the primitive accommodations and this secrecy, but once you reach the city it will be difficult for us to meet in private.”

  Yeshua nodded and found a comfortable position on a rock near the campfire. “I’m honored to meet you,” he said, watching the priest ease himself back onto his former seat.

  “The honor is mine, Rabbi. I’ve seen you before, but we’ve never formally met.” Nicodemus shifted his gaze to the shepherd boy. “Eli is a trusted lad who helps me get about the area as I need. I must admit, riding a donkey from the city has left me quite sore. Even with thick blankets, a donkey’s backbone is rough on an old man’s backside.” He smiled and extended his wrinkled hands to the fire again.

  The firelight made the priest’s grayish eyes shine and brightened the flowing, silver beard brushing his chest. His tunic and robes were of the fine
st quality and several jewels on his priestly chest plate sparkled, yet everything about Nicodemus spoke of a man who was not enamored by riches and pompous ceremony.

  They talked in generalities, but Nicodemus wasted little time before directing their conversation to Yeshua’s teachings.

  “Rabbi, I’ve seen you perform miracles that can only come from Elohim. No one could do so if God were not with him. But my questions are centered upon your words of ‘being born again’ and seeing the ‘kingdom of God.’ Some believe you refer to a man literally being born again from their mother’s womb. Truly you cannot say that a man must enter his mother’s womb a second time to be born again. What is it that you do mean?”

  Yeshua’s brows rose. “I’m surprised a teacher would misunderstand. I do not speak of literal rebirth, but of a spiritual rebirth, one in which we cleanse our soul in the immersion of living water, be born again in believing in and accepting Elohim—and through His teachings move into His kingdom, the kingdom of our God, Elohim.”

  A wry smile appeared on Nicodemus’ lips, letting Yeshua know he had well understood but only wished to hear it from him. They talked at leisure about the Torah, the Laws of Moses, and the parables Yeshua always spoke in his teachings.

  “It must be difficult for you being a Pharisee among the Sadducees of the temple, especially with them arguing constantly about the Scriptures,” Yeshua said, curious how opposing sects survived under the same temple roof.

  A light laugh came from the priest. “We have a give and take relationship with them. We give and the Sadducees take—and take. Although the chief priests and high priests are Sadducees, the numbers of both parties are divided well enough on our seventy-member Sanhedrin supreme court council that the Sadducees cannot freely have their way. The Essenes remain clear of the bickering, though. They are committed to their dietary laws, living a monastic life, and celibacy when it fits their needs. Personally, that celibacy stuff would drive me crazy.”

  Yeshua grinned. He liked the aged priest and enjoyed their talk.

  Nicodemus pointed a finger skyward and shook his head. “Pharisees believe in the resurrection of the dead, as you do, Rabbi. We wish to reach the kingdom of God you speak of. The Sadducees deny the afterlife. In their belief the soul perishes at death. We teach the existence of angels and demons in a spiritual realm while the Sadducees reject the idea of an unknown, unseen world. The Sadducees consider themselves elitist, aristocratic, and are power hungry. They may control the temple, but we control the synagogues in this country and that disturbs them.”

  Letting his gaze drift to the flames of the campfire, Nicodemus’ face drew somber. “The greatest difference, though, is the Sadducees are more accommodating to the Romans and their Gentile laws than we are. They’re concerned more with politics and control of the people than religion. It’s why they fear you. They do not want Roman attention brought upon the temple any more than what we have. And worse, there are Pharisees united with the Sadducees in that belief. I would warn you about the conspiracies against you, but you know they exist as I do.”

  “There will always be men who conspire against others. They do so because they are weak of heart, lack courage to do what is right, and live in fear of our God, Elohim,” Yeshua said with a tone of sadness.

  “May I offer a suggestion for tomorrow?” Nicodemus straightened his posture upon the rock and laid his wrinkled hands in his lap. The firelight danced in his gray eyes.

  The Nazarene nodded with a smile.

  “Rather than walk with your disciples through the city gates of Jerusalem, I suggest you enter riding a donkey. I can have Eli waiting outside the city with his donkey, and he can lead the animal through the streets while you are attentive to the crowds. There is another reason, though, why it would be prudent to do so.”

  Yeshua watched Nicodemus’ face.

  “When a king rides through the gates upon his horse, everyone sees him as an arriving conqueror. But riding upon a donkey tells all that he has come in peace. Such an arrival would announce you have come as the Prince of Peace, and with good intent.”

  A warm smile crossed Yeshua’s lips. “Truly you are blessed with wisdom, Nicodemus.” He rose and gave a slight bow of the head to the priest. He glanced at the shepherd boy. “Then I will look for you and your four-legged friend upon the road tomorrow before entering the city.”

  The boy looked from Yeshua to his donkey and rubbed the animal’s head.

  Nicodemus groaned and massaged the small of his back as he stood from the large rock.

  “I will have Eli bring a thick blanket for your ride.” His gray eyes shined in the firelight. A smile had formed on his lips but faded when he spoke again. “You carry a heavy weight of responsibility, one that I could never begin to bear. When you cross the city gates, know there are men who love you, but there are more who fear your arrival and wish you dead. Evil will be at every turn anxiously awaiting your downfall. I pray that our God, Elohim, will protect you.”

  “Thank you for your words of wisdom and blessing.” Having spoken, Yeshua walked from the camp.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jerusalem, District of Judea

  Monday, Month of Nisan, Day 10

  The shepherd boy quietly sat in the shade of a tree, watching dust rise from the road, stirred by the endless stream of pilgrims walking past to enter the city. Behind him stood his donkey with eyes closed and nostrils lightly flaring at times. It was the only sign that life still existed in the animal.

  At the sound of boisterous cheering, Eli glanced eastward along the road. Squinting against a glaring sun he could see the crowds gathered about a group of men as they walked from the Mount of Olives toward the city. When they drew closer Eli saw the Rabbi’s crème colored headdress then recognized the men following him. The shepherd boy waited until they were near before rising from the shade.

  “Are you ready, Eli?” Yeshua smiled at him as he waved to the surrounding crowd.

  The roar of the cheers came in waves, making it difficult to hear, but the boy nodded in reply. Adjusting the thick blanket on his donkey’s back, Eli held the lead rope while Yeshua mounted.

  “We’ll enter through the old wall’s southern gate. Follow the road past the Siloam Pool and pass in front of the temple gates. We won’t be entering, though. That will be for another day,” Yeshua shouted, laughing at how jubilant the people were. He saw the boy’s lips move yet couldn’t hear him, then the donkey lurched forward to follow its master.

  Yeshua’s disciples trailed the animal, their heads whipping left and right in amazement of the people. The joyous reception and festive atmosphere were far from what they had imagined.

  Thousands of pilgrims stretched from outside of the wall, through its gate, and on into the city’s interior. As Yeshua made his triumphal entry, Eli led the donkey along a narrow lane formed by the people pressing forward to see the young rabbi. Laying their cloaks and small branches of trees down before the animal to cushion the walk and welcome Yeshua, pilgrims sang, ‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord. We bless you from the house of the Lord...’

  As Yeshua and his disciples made their way through the city streets, those who did not know him asked, “Who is this you praise?” The faithful answered, “This is Yeshua, the prophet from Nazareth of Galilee.”

  More cried out, “Praise our God, Elohim, for the Prince of Peace has arrived! The Messiah has come for us at last!”

  But not all were pleased at his presence.

  Standing along the top of the towering temple walls, twenty members of the Sanhedrin council listened to the jubilant cries of the pilgrims and sternly watched the man upon the donkey ride past in the street below. The High Priest Caiaphas scowled and lightly shook his head in contempt. Others about him followed suit, grumbling about the false-prophet and his miracle tricks. Yet to one side of the priests stood Nicodemus leaning on the wa
ll as he watched Yeshua and the disciples. He smiled warmly at the cheers of the people, but sadness filled his eyes.

  Yeshua had paused in the street. He sat on the donkey gazing at the temple then raised his eyes to the priests lining the top of the wall. They stood staring at him.

  “Peter?”

  “Yes, Teacher,” Peter replied, moving forward to stand close.

  “Do you see this great building?” Yeshua’s calm voice held a prophetic tone.

  Looking the length of the temple, Peter turned to face Yeshua. “I see it.”

  “No stone that stands here one upon another will not be thrown down... And no Judean—man, woman, or child will survive that time.”

  Stunned by the revelation, Peter let his gaze drift from Yeshua to the enormous temple. When he looked back at his teacher, Eli had begun to lead the donkey away.

  ***

  Jerusalem, District of Judea

  Tuesday, Month of Nisan, Day 11

  In the morning sunlight of a cloudless sky Yeshua and his disciples walked through the city’s outer wall gate on their way to the temple. Night had been spent on the Mount of Olives where Yeshua preferred during his visits to Jerusalem. There were nights, though, when they accepted invitations to stay at the homes of supporters, yet those times primarily came when he and his men needed a full meal.

  Peter, the unspoken leader of the disciples, walked behind and to the right of Yeshua. The others followed as they chose, leaving Judas by himself to trail them. They walked in silence, sensing tension within Yeshua. Normally, he set their tone for the day. If he began with a morning lesson of the scriptures, the day would be upbeat with constant talk. But today, as he had every day since starting for Jerusalem, he awoke in a somber mood and said little unless spoken to. This, and his cryptic words of pending doom, kept the disciples anxious and confused.