The Damascus Way

by Janette Oke

  “We have food and we have water,” she said clearly. “Both enough to spare.”

  Linux’s head lifted, clearly recognizing the change in her tone and waiting for what would come next.

  “We have other problems,” Abigail said, looking straight at Linux. “Two of them, in fact. First, our market stopped trading with the Roman garrison because they did not pay.”

  “The garrison stole from you?”

  Yelban spoke for the first time, and he also looked straight at Linux. “The garrison did not need to. You wrote out script. Pages and pages of notes promising payment. I have them still. A king’s ransom in worthless script.”

  Linux grimaced. “I wish I could say I am surprised. But it is an old story. The garrison officer holds the power of a prince. What he does within the territory under his control is subject to no supervision but his own. More than likely this one received the silver for such costs and kept it for himself. If I were to find an officer willing to be honest with me, I would imagine his soldiers have not been paid either.”

  One of the legionnaires at the table said without raising his head, “Not in half a year.”

  Linux said, “We will make a search of the fortress. If I can find the garrison commander’s hidden wealth, I will pay you myself. If the silver went with him, I will need to obtain funds from Caesarea. I do not have food to spare, and my horses are in worse shape than my men.” His voice dropped, and he looked down at his hands. “You have no reason to trust me, of course.”

  Yelban turned and searched out the other elders, then said to Linux, “We will provide you with the supplies you need.”

  “And I will pay you,” Linux said, looking straight into his host’s face. “In coin. You have my word.”

  There was a soft rustling among the gathered villagers. Even Yelban visibly relaxed.

  “There is another problem,” Abigail said, nodding toward Yelban.

  As the elder described the bandits’ arrival and their threats, the Roman soldier by the front opening straightened and whistled softly. The soldier by the horses stepped into the tavern’s shadows and listened also.

  When Yelban was finished, Linux said, “Describe this bandit leader.”

  “Tall, though perhaps not quite so tall as you. Eyes like a desert adder, cold and dead. He wears two swords at his belt, and two more crossed at his back. And a bow of horn and ebony, curved like a serpent’s back.”

  “His beard?”

  “Long and waxed with the tip caught within a silver scabbard.”

  “I know this one,” Linux said, nodding slowly. “He calls himself Kirtuk. It is the Nabataean word for death.”

  Yelban continued, “He vowed that if I sought the Romans’ help, he would wait until you departed. And then he would return. And – ”

  Dorcas cried out, “No. Don’t go, uncle. Please.”

  Linux laid his hand on the child’s head. “That is in the hands of our Lord, dearest one.”

  Yelban leaned back. “You are a follower?”

  Abigail said, “He is. A dear and trusted friend as well.”

  Linux looked at her for a long moment, then returned his gaze to Yelban. “Here is what I propose. All but a handful of my men will come and set up camp here. We will patrol with the crossroads as our base. Those who remain at the fortress will dig out our well. But before I return here with my troops, I will search for the officer’s unpaid silver.”

  He cast a quick glance at Abigail, then said to Yelban, “I have been assigned responsibility for this entire area. If you agree, I shall personally take charge of the soldiers on patrol about this crossroads. Unless you object.”

  “Object?” His hands lifted to each side. “Yours is the only offer of help we have heard since the bandits arrived.” The relief and gratitude in the man’s expression said more than his words.

  “It is an answer to our most fervent prayer, Linux,” Abigail said. “Please stay.”

  “Oh yes,” Dorcas cried, clapping her hands. “Stay home.”

  Abigail watched as the Roman officer’s gaze dropped to the child’s face. Something in his smile caused a feeling she could not name to run through her entire frame.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Tiberias

  Julia remained awake for hours that night, reflecting upon her father and the enormous change in her future. It truly seemed like another miracle. Finally she fell into a deep slumber. The sun was casting its rays through her window when she was awakened by tapping on her door. She pushed herself up, pulling her hair out of her face. “Yes?”

  Her mother entered the room, smiling as she crossed to a small stool by Julia’s bed. “It is early, I know,” she began, “but I would like for us to talk some things over.”

  “Is Father still here?”

  “No.” Helena stroked her daughter’s face. “No, Jamal spent the night at . . . at the inn.”

  Julia tried to absorb the meaning of the words. She had never known her father to stay at his inn. Then it came to her. “The two of you discussed . . . ?”

  Helena nodded. “Long into the night.”

  “Has he asked that we leave?”

  “No, not at all. I did offer to go. He said the house is ours. For as long as we want it.”

  “But . . . ?” Julia could not voice her real question, so she said, “What happened?”

  “We can discuss all of that later,” Helena said. Then more quickly, “For now we must prepare to travel.”

  “Travel?” They would once again take to the road? They had just returned, and she had a vivid memory of how arduous travel could be.

  “Your father told us he is leaving for Damascus. I have asked that we be allowed to go there as well.”

  “To Damascus? What . . . ?”

  Helena shook her head slowly. “I . . . I am not sure. I only feel that is what God has told me to do. I know no other – ”

  “Oh, Mother. You are not thinking of . . . of presenting yourself . . .”

  “Truth is, I do not know what I am to do when we get there. I am sure, though, that I am to go. I would ask that you come also. God will make it plain step by step.”

  “But what . . . what did Father say?”

  “He was shocked, of course.” Helena smiled. “At first he said, ‘What are you asking me? I send you on one trip, and now you think all you wish to do is travel about?’ I reminded him that I had never asked him for anything before. He finally agreed. Though hesitantly, I think. I promised him that I would do nothing, say nothing, unless his – his other household invited me to do so. He will arrange for us to stay in his Damascus inn. Zoe again will travel with us.”

  By now Julia was fully awake. She wondered if her whirling thoughts would allow her to even think what she should do first. “How much time do we have?” she asked.

  “I promised your father that we would not delay his departure. He would like to leave soon. He did not name the hour. But I want us ready and waiting when he announces he is prepared to take to the road.”

  Julia nodded and took a deep breath. Though another journey this soon had no appeal, she remembered her father’s comment last evening – Jacob would also be going . . . if he arrived back in time.

  She quickly began gathering the clothing she would need.

  Jacob sat in the central courtyard of Jamal’s home, hunched over the sacks of frankincense gathered together at his feet. The fountain sprayed musically into the morning, but he hardly noticed as he watched the caravan master pacing nervously back and forth. The man had not wanted to accompany Jacob, fearing Jamal’s wrath. But Jacob had coaxed, and argued, and finally insisted. Now the caravan master’s sandals slapped back and forth across the stones, and he pulled at his beard and moustache.

  But Jacob took the caravan master’s presence as a good sign.

  Until yesterday, the last time he had seen this man had been in a dwindling cloud of dust as the man and his camels outpaced the trundling wagon. Behind them wa
s rising a storm great enough to wipe them all off the earth.

  Jacob now called over, “These dates are excellent.” He held one up from the plate on the small table nearby.

  The caravan master cast him a dark look. “I should never have trusted you.”

  “They are dipped in honey and wrapped in mint.” Jacob pointed to another plate. “And this is fresh-roasted lamb adorned with onions.”

  “Do you not hear what I say? Jamal’s fury is known from Damascus to Cairo. When he sees me he will – ”

  “He will do nothing. He will thank you.”

  “Thank me? I left his wife and daughter to die in the storm!” He dropped his voice for the last words, but his anxiety was most evident.

  “You had two hundred camels and their goods under your supervision. Twice that number of donkeys. Eighty drovers.” Jacob poured the man a cup of mint tea and held it out. “Here. Drink.”

  They had arrived at midmorning to learn that Jamal had been called to a meeting of local traders. At Jacob’s insistence, a messenger had been sent. By now the household servants realized that the young former guard held a far greater role than previously known. He and the caravan master were led into the courtyard and fed from Jamal’s table. Jacob had gathered his courage to ask about Julia, to learn only that both mother and daughter had arrived home safely.

  The caravan master finally collapsed onto the bench beside Jacob. The hand that accepted the tea trembled, and he seemed to swallow with difficulty. “It is easy for you to be calm. He will not want to put out your eyes.”

  “Jamal’s family is now safely at home. He will reward you with silver.”

  “You are a spinner of myths.”

  “Listen to me.” Jacob waited until the caravan master faced him. “What I saw yesterday when I rounded that bend was not simply an oasis and a caravan. It was a sign from the Lord.”

  The caravan master watched him intently now.

  Jacob said, “It was not merely Zealots who threatened me yesterday. I carry dire news of a peril facing all those who follow the risen Messiah.”

  “How can – ” A noise at the front gates halted the man’s query. His features again turned pale. “My children will starve without their father.”

  Jacob rose to his feet, gripped his companion’s arm, and lifted him as well. “Have faith.”

  But the first man to come rushing through the outer portal was not Jamal. Instead, Alban hurried over, calling Jacob’s name and sweeping him into an embrace. “Thank God,” his guardian murmured. “Oh, thank you, Lord.”

  Jacob was somewhat embarrassed. Alban was not one for openly showing his emotions. Yet the deep affection was clear on his face as he released Jacob and took a step back. “Jacob, I must admit I was afraid I would never see you – ”

  “How dare you show your face in my house?” Jamal’s voice thundered into the courtyard.

  Jacob walked past Alban and inserted himself between Jamal and the terrified caravan master. “Sire, one moment.”

  Jamal’s forefinger stabbed the air. “This man deserves the vilest of punishments!”

  “The man deserves your thanks, sire. And a reward.” Jacob was astounded that he dared interrupt his powerful employer. Even more, that he had suggested giving away some of Jamal’s money.

  “I will feed him his own tongue!”

  “You will fill his hands with silver.”

  The courtyard had gone silent as death. Even the fountain’s splashes seemed to fade into the background. Jamal focused on Jacob. “You, of all people, stand in this man’s defense?”

  “He has saved my life.”

  “He left you to die!” Jamal’s face of stone turned on the caravan master cowering behind Jacob. “I will – ”

  Jacob gripped Jamal’s forearm. “Sire, you must listen.”

  Jamal’s fury changed direction. From the corner of his eye, Jacob saw Alban move toward them, alarm on his features. But not even this could disturb Jacob’s calm.

  Jamal growled, “Unhand me!”

  Instead, Jacob turned the man about and pointed at the sacks piled upon the courtyard’s stones. “Do you see that, sire? They are here, I am here, because of this man.”

  “But – ”

  “Sire, only a few hours ago the Zealots attacked and almost captured me.” Jacob stepped once more directly in front of Jamal. “This man saved me. He and his guards beat off my foes.”

  Alban stepped closer. “Zealots? How close to Tiberias – ”

  Jacob silenced his guardian with an upraised hand. His attention remained focused upon Jamal. “Sire, I am utterly certain that our Lord’s hand was at work here.”

  Jamal snorted, but obviously his heart was no longer in it. He waved a dismissive hand. “All of you people with your religious nonsense.”

  “I serve a higher power, sire. And though the caravan master may not realize it, so did he. He was there at the right time for a purpose.”

  “What, to protect my wares?”

  “Not directly, sire. Far more than costly spice is at risk here. This man may have helped save hundreds of lives.” Again Jacob laid his hand on Jamal’s arm. “Sire, reward this man and release him. To do otherwise would be a terrible travesty. He has saved you a fortune, he has saved my life – and now we must hurry.”

  Jamal looked down at Jacob’s hand. Jacob released the man and took a step back. Jamal inspected him carefully, as though seeing Jacob for the first time. “Twice you have saved my family’s fortune. I am thinking it is time to reward you, not him.”

  “If a choice must be made between him and me, sire, he is the one who deserves your silver. But this is not the time for that discussion.”

  Jamal shook his head and said, “You have the makings of a leader, young man.” The merchant turned to the caravan master. “Come here.”

  The man approached slowly. “Sire, the storm – ”

  “Enough. I will hear Jacob’s report, and then I will decide on the future of our trade. For now . . .” Jamal unleashed the purse from his belt and dropped it into the caravan master’s hands. “Return to your caravan. We will speak later.”

  The man gaped at the purse, then at Jacob, then Jamal. He bowed deeply and backed from the courtyard. When the outer door shut, Jamal turned back to Jacob. “Gather up the sacks and bring them to my strong room. You say we must make haste?”

  “Every moment counts, sire. We hope and pray we are not already too late.”

  “Come then.” Jamal hefted two of the sacks himself and turned away. “Alban, join us.”

  Jacob and Alban brought the rest of the frankincense and followed Jamal into his private quarters. Alban murmured, “You are no longer the lad I rescued from bandits. What have you done with our boy Jacob?”

  Jacob grinned, then sobered as he heard a servant hurrying along the corridor. Jacob stood before the table, as he had previously in this same secluded room. Jamal sat with his back to the stone wall, flanked by torches. The long table before him was piled as usual with parchments and scrolls, bills of lading and reports from the merchant prince’s far-flung empire. Beside Jacob were piled the sacks of frankincense, a king’s ransom in the most valuable of spices. Jamal lifted his hand, palm out, as the servant’s footsteps scraped along the flagstones. “Wait.”

  The old servant, the same one previously so dismissive of Jacob, stepped forward and bowed. “Forgive me, master.”

  “I ordered that no one should disturb us.”

  “Yes, master. But . . . that is . . .” The servant bent low again. “The mistress has insisted on joining you. She has heard of your guests.” He cast a nervous glance at the two men, plainly uncertain over the change in their situations. “Mistress Helena and Julia both know of . . . of Jacob’s return. They ordered me to come, sire.”

  Jamal looked at Jacob, then back to his servant. “Then I suppose we had best allow them in.”

  Jacob’s heart leaped at the sound of the light footsteps, and it leaped further when Julia ca
me into view. Her face was flushed, and her brief glance at him held a light that warmed him to his bones.

  Jamal gave the two women a terse nod. “So you have heard of my trusted man’s return?”

  Jacob noted Julia doing her best to hide a smile. Helena replied solemnly, “We did not hear it was Jacob, sire. Only that two riders covered by the road’s dust raced into Tiberias and came straight here. We merely hoped it was the young man who had saved our lives.” She gave the head servant a pointed look. “It distresses me to see he was not offered an opportunity to bathe.”

  “No one told me anything, mistress,” the servant quickly defended.

  She ignored it and asked, “Might we have permission to greet him, sire?”

  Jamal waved them forward, watching without a hint of emotion.

  Helena stepped forward, both hands outstretched. “It does my heart much good to know that you are safe, Jacob.”

  “And you, mistress.”

  “Julia and I have prayed daily for your safe return.”

  Julia nodded, and Jacob bowed toward the daughter, who remained at a modest distance behind her mother. “I trust your own journey was successful.”

  “Our thanks to you, yes, it was.” Even speaking these words added a rosy glow to Julia’s face.

  Helena said, “I bring your sister’s greetings. From Nain.”

  “I am so glad. How is Abigail?”

  “Prospering. As is Dorcas.”

  “Her little daughter is a delight to all,” Alban said from his place at Jacob’s side.

  Jamal motioned again. “This is all interesting, I’m sure. But Jacob claims to have news that cannot wait.”

  Jacob turned immediately back to his master. “Sire, I ask your permission to travel to Damascus.”

  To Jacob’s astonishment, his words caused Jamal to pale, but he said merely, “I have already made plans, but – ”

  “I have received word that the most deadly foe of all followers of the Way is headed for that city.”

  Jacob felt rather than heard the two women’s small gasps. “Saul of Tarsus,” he confirmed. “He carries legal documents from the Temple Council, granting him the power to arrest any Judean who is a believer in Jesus.”