Instead it was his only child, his little daughter, who came out to greet him, for she loved him more than any daughter ever did.
Yiftakh wept great tears when he saw it, for his daughter was the apple in his eye for beauty.
He gave the daughter leave to go two months to mourn, for she was virgin. Then she came home, and he offered her as a burnt offering to Yah on account of his vow.
When I finish the tale, all the women are weeping.
Big Yaakov blinks many times and complains on the dust stirred up in the road.
My father looks on me with strange eyes.
Shimon the Rock looks on me with strange eyes.
Andre clears his throat and looks on me and taps the side of his nose.
I do not understand the meaning of this.
Elisheva takes my hand and squeezes it. Her eyes are red from weeping. “That was well told, Yoni. Only …”
I know I have done something very wrong.
“Yoni, why did you change Yiftakh’s name in the middle of the tale?”
I did not know I changed his name. Yiftakh is no common name. It is not done to name a boy Yiftakh, on account of the horror he made in Israel. “What name did I change it to?”
Elisheva says nothing.
And then I know.
My heart seizes inside my chest.
I should stuff a millstone in my mouth to keep from telling more secrets.
I told the tale of Yeshua, the mighty warrior of HaShem, the son of a zonah.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Shimon of Capernaum
We are all eating the morning meal in Elazar’s courtyard when I hear a stranger shouting outside in the street and beating on the door.
“Yoni! Andre! Give help! Are you there?”
Yoni chokes on the dried fig he was eating. He coughs a big cough and spits out the fig on the floor and makes no move to go greet the stranger.
We arrived last night at the home of Elazar in Bethany, where we always stay for Pesach. I ask, “Yoni, who could know we are here already?”
Yoni’s lip curls as he smells haryo. “It is that terrible man.”
Andre frowns. “We should not answer. He will go away and be rude to some other family.”
“Yoni! Andre! I beg you, give help!”
The face of Miryam Big-Eyes is completely white.
Marta strides out of the courtyard to greet the stranger.
She brings back a man with thick arms and wild eyes.
He staggers as he is exhausted. He looks as he has been running all night. The sweat of fear is on his face. His tunic is filthy, as he has fallen in the road many times.
Yoni scowls on him. “What brings you here, Hananyah the nail maker?”
This man Hananyah the nail maker falls at Yoni’s feet. “I came to warn you. I have been running two nights and a day. They took Yohanan the prophet. They will come here also.”
My heart hammers in my chest. “Who took Yohanan the prophet?”
“Soldiers from Herod.” Hananyah’s eyes are hungry on the bread I am eating. “I ran as fast as I could. They will come here soon.”
“Come here? Why?” Marta asks.
“They said Yohanan the prophet spoke evil on Herod on the matter of his woman. They asked who else spoke evil on the matter of his woman. Could I beg some bread from you? I have not eaten since Yohanan was taken.”
I do not like this Hananyah the nail maker. “Why did you come here?”
Yoni scowls. “His family lives in Joppa. That is another day’s walk, but he is hungry now. That is the only reason he came here.”
“But I also wished to warn you and your friend, Yeshua from Nazareth.” Hananyah stands to his feet.
I think it is more a matter of hunger than concern for Rabbi Yeshua.
Yoni shakes his head. “Rabbi Yeshua is not here yet. He is coming to Pesach with his brothers and mother by the Samaritan Road. We came by the Jordan Way and are to meet him here.”
“You should warn him away,” Hananyah says. “And you should run too, Yoni. You spoke ill on Herod’s woman first, and then Yeshua did. Yohanan the prophet only spoke ill on Herod’s woman after the both of you. Herod’s men will come for you.”
My father paces back and forth. “Yoni, you spoke ill on Herod’s woman?”
Yoni says, “I told the truth, how Herod took his brother’s woman, against Torah. And the woman divorced her lord, against Torah.”
I do not understand why they were so foolish as to speak on this matter.
“You should run,” Hananyah says. “Run for your lives. Do not take the Jericho Road. Herod’s soldiers will come back by that way. If Yohanan the prophet tells them what Yeshua said—”
“He will not tell,” Yoni says. “Yohanan the prophet will spit their eye and call them wicked and fools. And anyway, Rabbi Yeshua is to make his move at Pesach.”
Hananyah scowls on Yoni. “You know he cannot make a move. That is a big foolishness.”
I cross my arms on my chest. “Why can he not make a move? He is son of David.”
Hananyah shakes his head as I know nothing. “Yes, he says he is son of David, but what of the smirch on his name?”
I think he is more arrogant than any man ever was. “Leave us, you filth. Take bread and cheese and go. You are not fit to tie Rabbi Yeshua’s sandals. What smirch do you think he has on his name?”
Hananyah the nail maker’s eyes fill with a big scorn. “Yeshua from Nazareth has the smirch of mamzer on him.”
I slap his vile face with the back of my right hand. “Leave now, you lying haryo. And do not take bread and cheese. Go!”
“All of us heard it from his own brother, how some in his village say he is mamzer,” says Hananyah the nail maker. “Yoni, Andre, tell what you heard.”
I look on Yoni and Andre, and my heart misses a beat. “Yoni? Andre? Why does he insult Rabbi Yeshua? What do you know on the matter?”
Yoni looks guilty as the thief we caught once in our house in the middle of the night. “I thought Rabbi Yeshua would explain the matter himself. He should have explained the matter when he came to Capernaum, only he left for Nazareth. I think he meant to explain the matter—”
“What matter?” I shout. “Say it and be done with it, without so many ten thousand words.”
“Rabbi Yeshua has a smirch on his name in his village,” Andre says. “Some say his mother played the zonah, and so some other man of the village begat him.”
I do not believe them. This must be one of Andre’s jokes, only it is a bad joke and a wickedness. Rabbi Yeshua cannot be a son of adultery. Rabbi Yeshua is to be Mashiach.
Yoni clutches my arm. “The rabbis say the word of the father decides the matter. We know his father was a righteous man, Yoseph the tsaddik, and he claimed Rabbi Yeshua for his son. Therefore, he is his son. That should be the end on the matter.”
Hananyah the nail maker makes a happy grin. “But his own brother says there is a smirch on his name. He says not all in the village accept. He says no father of the village will give his daughter to Yeshua. I say Yeshua would never dare to make some foolish move. If his own village does not accept, they will raise a stench on the matter. You will make a fool on yourself if you follow after a man with a smirch. And anyway, Herod will kill him because Yeshua spoke ill on Herod’s woman.”
My father seizes Yoni and spins him around. “You admit you spoke ill on Herod’s woman?”
Yoni nods.
“And Rabbi Yeshua spoke ill on Herod’s woman?”
Yoni nods again.
“And Rabbi Yeshua has a smirch on his name?”
Yoni stares on the ground.
My father has always been quick to decide. He turns on his heel and begins shouting. “Quickly, everyone, we are leaving. Pack your cloaks. Take food. We will be gone in the fourth part of an hour.”
“Abba.” My heart hammers in my chest. “Tomorrow is Shabbat. Also, we will have to take the Samaritan Road.”
“T
hen we will travel on Shabbat, and we will take the Samaritan Road!” he roars.
It is a wrong thing to travel on Shabbat. And I do not wish to take the Samaritan Road. I am afraid on what I will do if I walk through the village that killed my brother.
Yoni’s father stands. “We also are leaving. Prepare your packs. Call the women. Give this man some bread and cheese and send him on his way. Quickly!”
Yoni stamps his foot. “What are you doing? We promised Rabbi Yeshua we would wait for him here. That we would join him when he makes his move! That—”
“Hush, Yoni,” Zavdai says. “You should have told us this man has a smirch. Nobody will follow a man with a smirch when he makes a move. Elazar, tell the mamzer that Capernaum is closed to him. If he comes there, we do not know the man.”
“I told you, he is not a mamzer!” Yoni shouts.
My whole body trembles and my hands feel moist. We should stay. There may be a big fight, and we should stand with Rabbi Yeshua. But we cannot stay. We have women here with us. And Rabbi Yeshua has no great army. He has four brothers and a few of us friends.
We are dead men if we stay.
We are cowards if we run.
“Quickly!” my father shouts. He strides around the edges of the courtyard, bellowing orders to our women to prepare to leave.
I am balanced on the edge of a knife. I wish to honor my father. But I wish to stay and fight. But I wish to protect our women. But I wish to—
Yoni hops up and down for his anger. “We do not know Herod’s men will come for us. We do not know they will come for Rabbi Yeshua.”
All my skin is cold. “We do not know they will not. You should not have spoken ill on Herod’s woman.”
“But it was true!” Yoni shouts. “Torah forbids a man to take the woman of his own brother, when the brother is alive.”
“Hush, Yoni.” He is a fool if he does not know when to leave a true thing unsaid.
Yoni jabs a finger at my chest. “Shimon the Rock, you will not run like a woman, will you? It is foolish for us to leave now. Rabbi Yeshua is about to make his move.”
I scowl on him. “He cannot be Mashiach if he has a smirch.”
Yoni shakes his head. “Rabbi Yeshua never said he is to be Mashiach! What if he means for Little Yaakov to be Mashiach? Rabbi Yeshua can be the prophet of Mashiach, whether he has a smirch or no. When they come into their power, they will throw off Herod. Speak to our fathers and tell them there is nothing to fear. HaShem will protect us!”
I cannot look on Yoni. Yoni is young and not wise in the ways of things. If HaShem will protect us, why did he not protect the prophet Yohanan? Yohanan is a true prophet and Rabbi Yeshua is a true prophet, but true prophets can be arrested and killed by evil kings. It has happened many hundred times. And anyway, I do not wish to follow after Little Yaakov.
“Shimon the Rock!” Yoni pushes his face in front of mine. “Think on what you are doing! Tell no to your father. We must stay and fight for Rabbi Yeshua!”
I hate that Yoni says what I dare only to think. Yoni is not more brave than me, he is more rash. He does not think out all paths. A man should think before he makes a move.
“You promised to fight for him!” Yoni’s lip curls as I am pig haryo.
I glare on him. “Yoni, there is a time to fight and a time to protect our women. It is foolish to wait idly for Herod’s men to come and kill us.”
Yoni says, “Coward! You have a fish knife, and Andre also. I have a blade. With HaShem on our side, why should we be afraid?”
I seize Yoni’s tunic in one fist and pull him close to my face. “You will never call me coward again. You will show honor to those who are older and wiser than you. You will fill your pack and be ready to leave in the fourth part of an hour. Yes?”
Yoni’s eyes gleam large and white.
I shake him. “Yes?”
Big Yaakov comes up beside me and pulls him away. “Yoni, we are leaving. All of us. Do not dishonor our father by disobeying. Yes?”
“I will not run like a woman.” Yoni’s words hiss out through clenched teeth.
Big Yaakov gives him the back of his hand.
Yoni’s face goes red. “Shimon the Rock! Speak sense to him. Do not run like a woman.”
I am so angry, I wish to break his teeth. I turn and stride out of the courtyard to find my pack.
Yoni is young and does not know what a Herod can do.
A Herod crucifies his enemies for cause of an insult.
A Herod kills his favorite woman for cause of jealousy.
A Herod executes his own son for cause of rivalry.
We have seen Herods do such things.
Any man who does not fear a Herod is a fool.
Even a mighty prophet of HaShem.
Rabbi Yeshua should have made his move before. Now it is too late. Now he must run. Now we must run also.
If we are lucky, we will never see Rabbi Yeshua again.
Chapter Forty
Yeshua of Nazareth
When we reach the village of Bethany, I point down the street. “The man of the house is called Elazar, and he loves HaShem. He is cousin to Yoni’s mother. If you like Yoni, you will like Elazar.”
My family and I came to Jerusalem by the Samaritan Road and arrived last night and rented the same house we always do. This morning we all slept long, for we were tired from our journey. Now my brothers and I are going to meet with Shimon the Rock and Andre and Big Yaakov and Yoni and their families.
My stomach is so tight, I think I might vomit. I do not know what to tell my men and my brothers. They think I know how to make a move. I told them I would make a move. But still I do not know how to make a move.
Yet I am certain HaShem will show me a great thing here during Pesach.
I know it. I do not know how I know it, but I do.
HaShem will show me how to smite the first Power. He must show me. I spent all winter telling repentance to Israel, and it was a good work. We saw many men repent. But I think there is more to smiting the first Power than telling repentance. That is a good work, but it is not enough. I am burning to know what to do next.
When we reach the house, I call at the door. “Elazar, friend! Are you well?”
Footsteps.
The door cracks open.
A frightened pair of eyes peep out.
“Miryam Big-Heart, are you well?” I ask.
She looks up and down the empty street and then pulls the door open. She whispers, “Come in and be quick. Did anyone in the village see you?”
My heart flutters. That is a strange welcome. We walk into the receiving room.
Miryam Big-Heart shuts the door. “Elazar!” Her voice cracks. “We have some men to see you!”
Some men. I feel as I am slapped with the backhand of dishonor. I am a friend of this house. I am not some men.
Elazar comes in from the central courtyard. His face is pale, and sweat shines on his forehead. “Rabbi Yeshua, you are in a big danger! King Herod has taken Yohanan the prophet. Your friends are gone back to Galilee.”
Taken! My heart explodes in my chest. Dark spots appear before my eyes. My knees feel weak. I put a hand on Little Yaakov’s shoulder.
He is a rock of strength.
I look to my other brothers.
Thin Shimon’s mouth hangs open. Yosi and Yehuda Dreamhead stare on each other.
Marta appears. Her mouth is set in a thin line. “Elazar, what are you thinking? We have guests! Bring them in. We must give them food and drink. No matter that King Herod may arrive at any moment and take us all away, we have our duty as hosts. Miryam Big-Eyes, run, run, and fetch food!”
Marta is not subtle, and I love her for it. I shake my head. “We will not stay. I will not put you in danger. Only explain the matter to me, for we have not heard this news.”
Elazar explains what has befallen. This morning, word came that Yohanan the prophet has been taken by King Herod’s men. Hananyah the nail maker came to tell it. He ran all t
he way here in a terror to warn them. Elazar gave him food, and he has gone to Joppa to hide. Yoni’s father and Shimon the Rock’s father were terrified and fled back to Galilee with their families by the Samaritan Road. Little Yoni wanted to stay and fight, but the others forced him to leave. His father and Shimon’s father left word for me—that Capernaum is closed to me, that the House of Yonah and the House of Zavdai do not know me.
When he finishes, Elazar cannot look my eye.
I think he has something more to say.
Little Yaakov’s fists are clenched tight. “These false friends are cowards. We are not afraid. Now is the time for us to make a move.”
My other brothers all nod.
I step closer to Elazar. “And there is more? I do not think you have said all.”
“It is … no, Rabbi Yeshua, there is—”
“Do not be foolish, Elazar,” Marta says. “Hananyah the nail maker said a strange thing on you, Rabbi Yeshua. And Yoni would not say no to it, that … you have a smirch on your name. Mashiach is to be son of David, yes?”
I feel as I am kicked in the underparts. The question I have been running from these last three weeks has caught up with me, and still I do not know the answer.
Elazar looks on me with sharp eyes.
“My father claimed me for his son,” I say. “He was Yoseph the tsaddik, son of Yaakov Mega, son of David. When I was a baby, a man of HaShem prophesied over me, how HaShem calls me to redeem Israel.”
Little Yaakov sucks in his breath.
Marta says, “But Andre also says there is a smirch on your name.”
I do not know what to say to that. There is a smirch on my name.
Elazar gives me a stony silence.
Marta bites her lip and will not look on me.
Miryam Big-Heart says, “There is food and beer in the courtyard. Please, you will eat?”
Marta clucks her tongue.
Elazar’s face is closed like an iron door, and his eyes dart toward the street.
I bow to Elazar and then to Marta. “Elazar, we will not put your house in a big danger. Marta, we thank you for your hospitality. Miryam Big-Heart, please, you will look in the street to be sure there is nobody to see us leave.”
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