by Angela Hunt
The man nodded. He spoke Aramaic, but carefully, as if it were not his native tongue. “We have been traveling many months. We have come seeking the one who has been born King of the Jews. For we saw His star in the east and have come to worship Him.”
“Worship?” The word slipped out on a tide of incredulity. I hesitated, then leaned toward Herod. “Are you divine already? It took Augustus years to be proclaimed a god.”
Herod shushed me. “Mind your tongue and listen.”
The visitors’ representative continued, “We are familiar with your people. Years ago, a Jew called Daniel served a king called Belshazzar. He shared some of your holy writings with our people, including a prophecy.” The man closed his eyes and recited: “‘I see Him, yet not at this moment. I behold Him, yet not in this location. For a star will come from Jacob, a scepter will arise from Israel.’” The man opened his eyes. “We have seen His star, and we have come to meet the mighty King.”
Herod threw me a warning glance and cleared his throat. “I am glad you have come.” He smiled, though his eyes had shuttered into slits of annoyance. “And I will offer you hospitality here, in my palace, while I make inquiries. Let me summon my wise men, and I will ask them to search the Holy Scripture and the writings of the prophets. When I have an answer, I will share it with you.”
The wise men conferred in their own language. Afterward the leader bowed. “Thank you for your generous hospitality. We will wait to hear from you.”
They backed away from the throne and, at an appropriate distance, turned and left the reception hall.
I shifted my position so that those watching from a distance could not see my expression. “What do you make of it?” I asked, searching Herod’s face. “I have never heard of this prophecy.”
“Nor I,” Herod replied, his voice dry, “but I have never studied the prophets. I will have to summon the kohanim and the Temple’s best Torah scholars—”
“Why alert the entire Sanhedrin?” I asked, grateful to be of service. “Zara is married to a Torah scholar. I will send for him.”
“Do so at once,” Herod said, scratching his chin. “For if there is a new king in Judea, I would find him first.”
Herod was not a patient man. By the time Ravid appeared at the palace with the escort I had sent for him, Herod had already summoned several Torah scholars from Jerusalem. Those men did not appear happy to be yanked from their homes at the time of the midday meal, but they had come nonetheless. They were crowded into Herod’s council chamber, where he sat at a table covered with every ancient manuscript he could find in the palace.
“Salome!” Herod’s face brightened when I appeared in the doorway. “Have you brought someone who can help?”
I gestured to Ravid, who stood beside me, looking pale and uncertain. “This is Ravid, the Torah teacher I mentioned.”
The Temple scholars stared at Ravid as Herod clasped his hands and nodded. “Good. My visitors are seeking a king of the Jews.”
“But you are the king of the Jews,” one of the Temple teachers said. “May you live long and—”
“Not me,” Herod snapped. “They are seeking a new king. A powerful king, one who will crush foreheads and skulls.”
The Temple teachers looked at each other, their faces twisting in bewilderment.
Ravid stepped forward and gave Herod a quick bow. “I am pleased to be of service, but I’m not sure what you require.”
“I need an answer to a simple question,” Herod said and glared at the scholars around the table. “A group of wise men have come to Jerusalem to seek a king. They say the prophets spoke of him in the time of Daniel, and now he has been born king of the Jews. What can you tell me about him?”
Ravid glanced at me, then cleared his throat. “If he has been born, He will come from the tribe of Judah.”
“Aha!” Herod pounded the table in delight. “Now we are getting somewhere. You know about this king?”
Ravid nodded.
“You are from the tribe of Judah, are you not?” I smiled. “I believe that is what Zara told me.”
“I am. If you recall the deathbed blessing Jacob gave Judah, he said, ‘The scepter will not pass from Judah, nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet, until He to whom it belongs will come. To Him will be the obedience of the peoples.’”
Herod nodded as if he were familiar with the prophecy, but I had never heard it.
“All right, then,” Herod said, his face going somber. “So where is this king? How do I find him to pay my respects?”
Ravid drew a deep breath. “The prophet Micah prophesied that He would be born in Bethlehem.”
“Bethlehem.” Herod’s voice went soft with disbelief. “The shepherd’s village?”
“So said the prophet.”
Herod leaned back in his chair, contemplating Ravid’s answer, then nodded. “You may go!” he shouted at the men around the table. “All of you.”
The scholars stood and shuffled out of the room. I caught Ravid’s sleeve before he followed the others. “I would like to see you before you go,” I whispered. “Please wait for me in the courtyard.”
When the room had emptied, I sighed and moved toward the door. “The hour grows late,” I said, “and I want to ask Ravid about Zara before he leaves.”
Ignoring me, Herod shouted for a guard. A soldier appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide and his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Fetch the captain of my elite guard,” Herod said. “At once!”
As the soldier hurried away, I gaped at my brother. “What has alarmed you?” I asked.
Herod smiled, a look of purposeful intent on his face. “When have I ever allowed a contender for the throne to live? Tomorrow I will find out exactly when this star appeared, and then I will eliminate the threat. As I always have.”
I should not have been surprised, but I was. If a supposed king in Bethlehem was preparing to challenge Herod’s throne, we would have heard about him. Unless the king was still a baby.
But how could a newborn child threaten an aged king?
I walked in the shadowy hall, pacing back and forth, clenching and unclenching my hands as my thoughts raced. Years ago I took a vow to protect Herod no matter what, and I had committed many regrettable acts in the defense of his throne. But how could I condone the murder of a child? This would not be an act of war; it would be an act of vanity for an aging king, one who had only a few years remaining, even if all went well. We had just lost Pheroras. Why did defending Herod involve so much bloodshed? And why had Ravid told Herod the king would be born in Bethlehem? He and Zara lived there with their baby.
My mind stuttered over an unexpected thought: what if their baby was this prophesied king? Could their son grow up to sit on the throne of Judea? Ravid was a devout man who would undoubtedly teach his son the Law of HaShem.
But if Herod had his way, Zara’s son would die tomorrow. Not some nameless, faceless baby, but the son for which Zara and Ravid had waited and wept and prayed.
The thought chilled me to the marrow, yet what could I do? Herod was nothing if not stubborn, and he had already made up his mind about what to do.
Perhaps I was being foolish. Zara’s baby was no king, surely not. And even if he were, would it not be better for him to die than to grow up to become king? Being king of the Jews had not brought Herod happiness. The throne had brought conflict and strife and stained his hands with the blood of his loved ones. His power had been limited, his wealth stolen, and he had never received the love, appreciation, and gratitude he sought from his people. What good was a kingdom if it came at such a high cost?
What was Herod thinking? He would not live long enough for a baby to grow to manhood, so he must be thinking of his children. He wanted to kill a baby in Bethlehem in order to preserve his Herodian dynasty. That was why he wanted the Hasmonean sons of Mariamne to die. That was why he would kill an innocent child. His ambition was horrific, but what could I do about it? I could not stop him. I did not dare try. Ove
r the years I watched Herod turn on his beloved Mariamne, on his sons, and on Pheroras. He might turn on me if I tried to oppose him, and then I might die under mysterious circumstances. Even though I had devoted my life to serving my brother, all my efforts would come to nothing if I tried to stop him from saving his posterity from this newborn king.
So what would I tell Ravid, waiting for me in the courtyard? Would I tell him to go his way and be at peace, or . . .
I stopped in the hallway where I had stood with Pheroras not so long ago. Outside an open window, the city lay like a colorful blanket as flickering lights began to seep through cracks in shuttered windows. If only I were a Jewish woman who lived in one of those houses, an ordinary woman with problems like what to cook for Shabbat dinner . . .
I realized I was weeping only when I tasted the salt of my tears. “Adonai.” The name was the only one available to me; no one else could help. “Adonai, I am powerless. I cannot stop what is about to happen.”
A soft wind blew through the open window, brushing my cheek. I swiped my tears away, not wanting to appear forlorn or defeated in front of Ravid, and then I heard Pheroras’s voice as clearly as if he were standing next to me: “I was not a righteous man before . . . I want to be righteous now. I want to love Adonai with all my heart, soul, and strength. Can you understand that?”
I didn’t understand, but with desperate clarity I knew I wanted life, not death. I wanted Herod to be known for his mercy, not his ambition. Why did a sixty-eight-year-old king need to defend his throne from a baby?
Then, from someplace I could not identify, I heard another voice:
When Israel was a youth I loved him, and out of Egypt I called My son.
I had never heard such words, and for a moment I wondered if the rumbling voice came from my own head. Was I losing my mind? But no—I had no reason to say those phrases, and I had not thought about Egypt in years.
Then, in a breathless moment of clarity, I understood. I had called out to Adonai, and He had answered . . . but at first I had been too dull of hearing to understand.
I sniffed, palmed the remaining tears from my face, and hurried to the courtyard to find Ravid.
“Egypt?” Ravid stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. “You want us to go to Egypt?”
“As soon as possible,” I said, moving toward a set of woven storage baskets the gardeners had left behind. “Here.” I picked up a basket, dumped a mountain of dead leaves and spent blossoms on the ground, and handed the empty basket to Ravid. “Take this, go home, pack your things, and leave at once. It is not safe for you to remain in Bethlehem.”
“Why?” Ravid stood like a statue, holding the basket with a blank look on his face. “Why would we leave? We have our school, and we have students. They will be waiting for us in the morning—”
“You must not be there.” I dumped another basket, then halted in mid-step. “How old is your baby?”
Ravid frowned. “Nearly two years.”
I shoved the second basket into his arms. “Go home, get your wife and baby, and leave Judea.”
Ravid set the basket on the ground. “I still do not understand—”
“Ravid.” I walked over and firmly held his gaze. “Today I asked Adonai for help. I received an answer. I heard something about ‘out of Egypt I called my son.’ That is why you must go to Egypt, and you must leave before tomorrow.”
A tiny flicker of shock widened his eyes, and he blew out a breath. “The prophet Hosea,” he said. “Those are the words of Adonai.”
“Why are you still here?” I thrust a smaller basket into the container at his feet, then pushed his shoulder toward the gate. “Go. The escort is waiting with a cart outside. Be safe.”
Something I said must have convinced him, because he picked up the baskets and strode toward the gate. But before leaving, he turned and met my gaze. “May Adonai bless you,” he said, his dark eyes glittering with conviction. “Until the next time we see you.”
I watched him go, and as he turned the corner, with pulse-pounding certainty I knew we would never meet again.
I sat as still as a statue as the scene I had dreaded unfolded before me. Because the wise men were waiting for darkness in case the star reappeared, Herod summoned the wise men at sunset and told them to look for the child in Bethlehem. Before sending them off, he asked when they had first seen the star that led them to Jerusalem. The leader of the group replied that they had been traveling for nearly two years, always moving west, where the star had first appeared on the horizon.
“Thank you.” Herod smiled. “When you have found this king, return here and let me know where he lives. I would like to visit him myself.”
The wise men bowed and left the reception hall, their voices blending into a masculine rumble as they went to the courtyard to assemble their caravan.
I had done all I could. I knew nothing about a coming king; I knew only that Zara and Ravid had a baby less than two years old and they lived in Bethlehem. But now they should be on their way south. They were righteous. So perhaps I could be counted as righteous for saving their baby’s life.
I hoped—I prayed—they had believed me.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Zara
I had been napping, but Ravid woke me with a story that drove the last lingering wisps of sleep from my head. The escort that had driven him from Jerusalem left the cart with us and said Salome had instructed him to walk back. “That was good of her,” I remarked, and Ravid looked at me as if surprised that goodness could exist in Herod’s palace.
Ravid tossed belongings into baskets and trunks while I lifted our son into my arms. Just before we left, Ravid wrote a note to his students and tacked it to the door. He did not say where we were going or why. In fact, I wasn’t sure of the why myself.
The night sky had begun to brighten in the east when we climbed into the cart and woke the sleepy donkey. My heart pounded when the animal protested with an ear-shattering bray, but no one stirred as Ravid slapped the reins and we set out, wheels creaking as we drove through the village gates and looked for the road that led south.
We stopped by the well to fill a water jug and were surprised to find another couple in a cart. Their donkey was older and even more recalcitrant than ours, and I said as much to the young woman as the men hauled up the bucket.
She smiled, and as the first rays of morning lit her face I was startled by her youth. Only a girl, really, though she held a baby to her breast. “What a sweet baby,” I said, glimpsing a shock of brown hair. “A boy?”
She nodded.
“We have a son, too.” I gestured to the basket behind me. “He tends to sleep through all the excitement.”
She sighed softly. “I am hoping this one will sleep. He is a good baby, though.”
“How old?”
“Almost two.”
“Ours is the same age.” I peered through the morning fog to check on the men, then looked back at her. “Are you going south?”
“I think so.” She glanced at her husband. “Joseph did not say. He only said we had to go at once.”
“We’re traveling to Egypt.” I sighed. “Though I am not sure why.”
She laughed softly. “My husband is a carpenter. He says he can work anywhere.”
“Mine is a teacher. I suppose he can teach anywhere, as well.”
I glanced into her wagon, which, like ours, had been packed with baskets and rough wooden trunks. But her wagon also held several ornate jars, the sort of containers I had seen only in the king’s palace.
When I looked up, I realized she had seen my curious glance at the contents of her cart. “We had unexpected guests before we left,” she said, tossing a rough blanket over the beautiful jars. “They were generous with their gifts.”
I smiled to reassure her. “You don’t have to worry about us, but covering those is a good idea. Far too many thieves would be attracted by such things.”
The men returned carrying an earthen water jar between t
hem, and Ravid placed his hand on my shoulder. “We are going to travel together,” he said, nodding to the young man. “There is safety in numbers.”
“Good idea.” I smiled at the girl. “My name is Zara.”
“I am Mary,” she answered. “And I am glad the Lord has made sure we will not be alone.”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Salome
I spent most of the next day in the courtyard garden, watching the sun sail across the sky and waiting for the sound of a camel caravan. I hoped—I prayed—that if Zara’s little son was the prophesied king, the wise men would find only an empty house when they reached Bethlehem.
Occasionally I heard an impatient roar coming from Herod’s chamber. He was waiting too, and as one hour slid into the next, I knew he had realized the truth: the men from the East were not coming back. Somehow they had intuited my brother’s intention and chose to leave Jerusalem behind.
Did they find their baby king, or did they simply ride away after a fruitless search? I thought about sending someone to ask Bethlehem villagers if anyone had noticed a camel caravan—surely it would not have gone unnoticed—but then decided to let the matter rest.
The sun was on its way down the sky when the doors of the garrison flew open and a squad of armed riders burst forward, spurring their horses through the gate. My hand flew to my throat at the familiar sound. I ran up the stairs and hurried to the balcony built into the western wall. A moment later I heard footsteps and spun around to see Herod standing behind me, a look of stern satisfaction on his face as he watched the riders churn up clouds of dust on the road to Bethlehem.
Had Herod sent someone to search for news of a caravan?
“Did you find the king?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I do not need to find him. The star of this so-called king appeared two years ago, so I have given my swordsmen orders to eliminate every boy less than two years old. The threat will be eliminated by morning.”
