by Brian Godawa
Simon reached for his sword.
Thirty soldiers burst into the hall with weapons drawn and surrounded them.
Simon yelled to his messenger, “Uriah!” It was a call of warning.
Two Zealots dragged in the body of the warrior by his long hair, leaving a trail of blood on the pavement.
“You mean that Uriah?” said Gischala.
They dropped the warrior at Simon’s feet. Poor Uriah had his throat cut.
The Zealots grabbed Simon and Berenice, disarming the warrior.
Gischala strode up to his captives. “The Day of Atonement is coming. The day when the high priest enters the Holy of Holies—the very presence of God. A day of cleansing—and sacrifice.”
Simon and Berenice watched him painfully.
“Oh, I have big plans for that day. All Israel will see the glory of the Lord in his Messiah as he triumphs over the Sons of Darkness.”
Simon said, “You are a Son of Darkness.”
Gischala ignored the gibe, staring back at Simon. “And the first order of my new kingdom will be to execute you before the masses. Along with your Cleopatra whore. Fitting irony, is it not? You two together at last. In death.”
He commanded the guards, “Imprison them.”
CHAPTER 55
Simon and Berenice were ushered into the dungeon below the temple mount. A squad of thirty soldiers escorted them. Gischala was not about to grant his enemy a shred of opportunity to escape.
They were pushed into the closest cell to the iron door that guarded the prison chambers. The other cells were filled with hundreds of criminals, bandits, and political prisoners of Gischala.
The cell was twelve-foot square of damp and dark thick stone walls without the smallest slit of a window. It made Simon feel like they were in Sheol, the underworld. This would be particularly difficult for Berenice, coming from her privileged life of comfort and luxury. He wanted to hold her, tell her everything would be all right.
But he knew it would not be.
She spoke first. “Simon, I am so sorry.”
He could see she wanted him to say something. He said nothing.
She glanced around them, shivering, and then broke down weeping. She dropped to her knees on the ground in deep sobs of despair.
Simon knew her. Knew she was a master of emotional theater. That she could manufacture tears at a moment’s notice. He had seen her do it years ago. But this, he knew, was real.
He thought, What difference does it make? We’re going to die anyway.
Simon moved to Berenice and knelt down beside her, embracing her. He felt her tremble. He held her strongly until she stopped.
Then she said with a shaky voice, “I only wanted to help the people. To atone for what I have done.”
“God alone can atone for our sins.” Simon spoke without emotion. He spoke the truth.
“My sin is great,” she whispered.
“So is mine.”
She pulled away from him to look into his eyes as if to ask, Is all hope lost?
His return look said clearly, It is.
He felt her shivering again. “You are cold.” He grabbed her closer, trying to share body warmth. He rubbed her bare arms.
Berenice said, “All my life I have known plotting and calculations of wealth and privilege. You were the one true thing I ever really had. And that is why I never really had you.”
Simon stayed silent.
“You are a righteous man, Simon.”
He shook his head. “I am not the same man you once knew. I am no righteous man. I have done things…” he paused in shame.
“So have I,” she replied.
“May God have mercy on our souls,” he whispered.
She snuggled her head deeper into his chest. It was something he had never experienced the entire time that they had been lovers. True surrender.
She wished out loud, “If this were a different world. If we had different lives.”
“We only have one life, princess. What we do with it measures who we are. Not wishful thoughts.”
In the past when they’d been together and he had scolded her like this, she’d reacted with pride or condescension. But not now. Now she listened.
Simon pulled away from her and reached into his belt. “I have something for you.”
He pulled out the small braid of hair in a locket she had given him in her palace before the revolt. He held it out to her.
Her eyes went wide with surprise. “You’ve kept this all these years?”
Now she really knew how he had felt. How he had loved her. Now she really knew everything she had lost.
Slowly, Berenice reached up with sad eyes and received the locket. He was giving it back to her. He was giving up their past.
He was a different man. This was a different life. And they could never be together again.
She clutched the locket to her heart, holding back a torrent of emotion. She said, “You do not deserve this prison with me.”
He smiled at her. “I have never been more free.”
He finally saw her as she truly was. A desperate, broken woman surviving in a world of power and corruption. She was a victim, but she was also culpable for what she had done. And she was facing her own guilt.
He could not judge her anymore. He could only pity her.
God will repay each person according to what they have done.
CHAPTER 56
Aaron put on his light leather armor and strapped his gladius blade to his side. He stood in Simon’s war room in the Tower Phasael, looking out onto the temple in the distance. His eyes felt like those of a hawk, determined, ready to pounce.
“Brother Aaron, you asked for me?” Levi, Aaron’s lieutenant and fiercest Essene warrior, stood in the doorway. He was seventeen, lean, with sandy cropped hair and a no-nonsense temperament.
Aaron waved impatiently. “Come in, Levi.”
Levi moved hesitantly. “Is something wrong?”
“Simon has been gone three days. I’m going to find him and bring our general back.”
Levi looked troubled. “Sir, the Romans have completed their new rampart up to the Antonia. They’ll be breaking through the wall soon.”
“Then I had better hurry.”
“But what if you are captured?”
“Then that leaves you to lead the Essenes, Lieutenant. Simon’s captain will be here shortly. He will be in charge of the city forces.”
“Sir, are you going to try to conduct a prison break in the bowels of Gischala’s lair all by yourself?”
“Of course not,” said Aaron. “I’m bringing an army.” He gestured behind Levi, who turned to see the massive Simcha standing in the door with a toothy grin—ready for orders.
• • • • •
Apollyon arrived with Marduk on Storm Demon behind the Roman lines in the unseen realm. They watched as the Romans finished preparing their huge battering ram for its approach to the Antonia.
Apollyon saw Azazel, Ares, and Zeus waiting for him at the front line with a fourth deity previously absent: Semyaza.
The chariot rolled to a stop near the gods, and Apollyon hopped off. Marduk followed him like a shadow.
“I see you heard my call,” said Apollyon.
“Yes, Master,” said Semyaza dutifully.
Apollyon carefully scanned Azazel’s face, looking for any hint of collusion between the two. He saw none. Apollyon could not help but consider the dangerous possibility of these two ancient ones conspiring to overthrow him and steal his temple. But he had to take the risk. He needed all the help he could get.
Azazel glanced around subtly and said, “My lord, you mentioned before you left that you had one last measure.”
Apollyon grinned with satisfaction. “I did.”
The Watchers looked at one another with curious faces.
“But we are not at our last objective.” His voice became insistent. “So do your job and take down that fortress.”
The gods obeyed and fol
lowed the Romans rolling Victor up the rampart to the Antonia.
This time they were approaching the wall instead of the gates. The Antonia was a Roman construction so Titus knew how well their defenses were constructed. The gates were often fortified to absorb battering with their wooden structures, buttresses, and armor. Stone walls however, were unyielding and therefore crumbled upon impact with the relentless iron head of battering rams.
The Jews launched hundreds of fiery arrows at the ram. But the Romans had draped wet animal skins upon it, so the flames just died out instead of catching fire.
A squad of fifty Jewish soldiers on horseback sallied out and attacked the Romans just as the ram came within contact distance of the wall. They killed many of the legionaries but were quickly repelled by Roman reinforcements, who replaced their dead comrades.
Eventually the ram’s battering commenced.
The Jews’ tactics only delayed the inevitable. Victor began to strike away at the stone with its hammering head. The wall of the fortress rattled with each hit.
The gods were right beside Victor in the unseen realm, pounding away at the heavenly barrier.
• • • • •
In the outer court of the temple mount, thousands of civilians cringed in fear at the sound of the pounding of the ram. Citizen supporters of the Zealot cause had been called by Gischala to the temple for a sacred ceremony.
Gischala stood on the temple steps, draped once again in his purple cape and crown. He raised his hands with assurance.
“Fear not, O children of Israel! O people of Jerusalem! What you hear is the sound of your salvation drawing near!”
A thousand soldiers at the front of the crowd applauded, bringing some calm to the rest of the masses.
A bevy of three priests came out from the gate and stood before Gischala. He bowed to the ground on one knee and took off his crown. One of the priests held up a large vial he had been carrying and poured oil onto Gischala’s head.
Some in the crowd cheered. They knew what the priest was doing.
Gischala stood, wiping away the oil and replacing the crown on his head. He raised his hands high and shouted to the masses, “My people, my people! The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me because Yahweh has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and the opening of prison to those who are bound. To proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor!”201
He raised his hands, and a line of dozens of men in tattered clothes exited the gates behind him to be led out into the crowd. The men were recognized as criminals and bandits who had been held in the prison cells below. The political prisoners had already been executed.
As he had anticipated, the liberated captives were received with cheers by the crowd. Some shouted out, “Messiah has come!” Others called, “Rescue us, O Lord!”
CHAPTER 57
Aaron held a torch before him as he led Simcha through the maze of underground passages. Simcha had to constantly duck down to keep his head from hitting the wooden beams buttressing the rocky ceiling.
Above them could be heard the distant pounding of Victor upon the walls of the Antonia. They were getting near to their target.
They came upon a small cave-in with debris and a broken wooden beam. Climbing over the rubble, they found the secret entrance into the stairwell of the temple dungeon.
Aaron doused his light, and they descended cautiously into the belly of the beast.
When they reached the bottom, Aaron heard the sound of guards and held Simcha back. He peeked around the corner.
About fifty feet ahead, four guards stood before the door to the dungeon area. Aaron put up four fingers to Simcha, who smiled.
He nudged Aaron and gestured to wait. Then he slipped back up the stairwell, leaving Aaron wondering.
The Essene’s curiosity was satisfied when Simcha returned minutes later carrying a broken timber from the ceiling of the passage. It was as tall as a man and looked to be a hundred pounds or more. Simcha held it with ease as he walked past Aaron into the hallway.
Aaron watched the big, brawny warrior run down the hallway toward the guards, holding the timber at his chest like a barbell.
At the last moment, Simcha gave a guttural yell to distract his victims. They jerked with surprise to see him barreling down on them. For just that moment, they froze.
He launched the timber. It flew ten feet and hit the soldiers square in the chests. All four of them fell to the ground like blades of wheat before a scythe.
Within seconds, Aaron was upon them, standing beside Simcha, who looked down at the unconscious guards.
The huge warrior said with disappointment, “That was too easy.”
“What, do you want it to be difficult?” Aaron demanded.
“I expected a little more excitement.”
“Sorry to spoil your fun.” Aaron grabbed the keys from the head guard and opened the dungeon door.
They entered and immediately found Simon and Berenice asleep in their cell, holding one another.
As Aaron opened the cell door, the two prisoners awakened.
Simon rubbed his eyes and said, “I was beginning to think you forgot about us.”
Aaron smiled. “Patience, General, patience.”
Simon followed Aaron out of the prison hallway. He ordered Simcha, “Protect the princess.”
The big warrior smiled and gently waved for Berenice to follow him. She looked up at him, a bit fearful, but relieved.
Just outside the hall, Aaron noticed one of the guards stirring. He drew his blade and lifted it over the soldier to finish him off.
But Simon’s hand stayed him. “Aaron, that’s not necessary.”
“Not necessary?” Aaron complained. “They are the enemy.”
“Rome is the enemy.”
Aaron dropped his sword to his side. Simon had changed. Everything had changed. He knew this world was never going to be the same.
Simon and Aaron each grabbed one of the torches on the prison wall. They raced back up the stairs and entered the secret tunnels.
Simon’s attention was drawn to the faint sound of pounding above them.
“Where exactly is the ram?”
Aaron answered, “At the north wall of the Antonia.” He pointed down one of the passageways. “That way.”
“Both of you, take the princess to safety,” said Simon. “I have a task to perform.”
Aaron scolded him, “General, you’re going alone again?”
“I’ll be okay. Meet me at the inner temple with your squad of Essenes. We’re going to do some housecleaning.”
Aaron hesitated, then shrugged. “Okay.”
As Aaron and Simcha started down the tunnel with Berenice, Simon took off in the opposite direction.
• • • • •
Up on the temple mount, Gischala continued announcing messianic allusions to his crowd of trusting followers. “My people, the Jubilee of Jubilees has arrived! Those who have faith, make your way to the antechambers behind the temple. From there you will await your deliverance. The Day of Atonement is at hand!”
People applauded. The distant pounding of the ram had become less noticeable to everyone focused on Gischala’s theatrics.
His guards guided the people to the cloistered colonnades behind the temple. Six thousand civilians—men, women, and children—were shepherded to the antechambers to wait obediently. Many of them bowed or knelt in prayer with excited anticipation of the coming of the Lord.
This was it. This was the visitation Yahweh had promised them through the prophets.202 There had not been a legitimate prophet of God since Malachi four hundred years ago. Specifically, they had been waiting four hundred and ninety years—seventy weeks of years—since their exile in Babylon for the anointed prince who would finish the transgression, put an end to sin, atone for iniquity, bring in everlasting righteousness, seal both vision and prophet, and anoint the Most Holy One.203
After the believers were safely in the
antechambers, Gischala called together his hundred most devoted soldiers and said to them, “Follow me.”
He led them into the temple.
• • • • •
Simon traveled through the tunnels, following the sounds of the battering ram above. He arrived at a spot where he could hear the pounding directly above him. He looked up and saw some dirt falling from the ceiling with each hit.
He was approximately beneath the ram at the wall of the Antonia.
He raised his torch overhead to see the trestles of wooden beams used to brace the ceilings. They ran along the tunnels like a rib cage every ten feet or so.
Simon placed his torch to the first beam until it started to burn. Then he stepped to the next and lit it on fire.
He moved along several crisscrossing tunnels, lighting all the crossbeams on fire just to make sure he would hit his target.
The flames began to fill the tunnel with smoke. Simon covered his mouth, coughing. He would have to leave soon or be overwhelmed by it.
• • • • •
The Romans pounded away against the wall of the Antonia with their battering ram.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Stone crumbled beneath the relentless iron head of Victor. The wall was slowly disintegrating with each hit. The bronze roof of the ram protected the Roman soldiers from the missiles above.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The Jews could engage in no more sallies as the Romans had created a perimeter of forces around the ram.
But the tactics of the rebels were not exhausted.
High above Victor, a series of large sacks full of chaff were hoisted down by ropes to cover the wall. They were larger than the ram’s head, and they were designed for just this kind of attack.
The sacks hung between Victor and the wall. When the iron head hit, the sacks worked like pillows, absorbing the force and softening the blows.204
One of the Jews on the wall joked to his comrade, “It’s like sex with my wife. She’s rarely willing!”
The Jewish soldiers around him laughed. Another one shouted, “Are you Romans tired of all your boys? Come to poke a hole in our wall?”
More laughs were followed by more taunts shouted down at their attackers.
