by Brian Godawa
The speaker concluded. “I was a scribe. An Essene. I have spent my whole life studying the Scriptures and the holy texts, my brothers. I am telling you, the War of the Sons of Light against the Sons of Darkness has arrived. Are you ready? Will you be a zealot with me or will you stay chained in your slavery to Rome? Will you join the fight against our Herodian traitors or will you be cowards? I already have hundreds of followers hiding out in the wilderness. Join our band of Zealots and share our holy calling, “No king but God.”
Ah, there is the reference to Judas the Galilean, thought Demas. Stripped of all reference to his failure, but promoting the slogan Judas became known for. No king but God. It was a call to revolt and return to their Mosaic theocracy, the rule of God. Caesar had pretended tolerance in allowing subjugated peoples to worship their own gods, just so long as they also worshipped Caesar as their ultimate King of kings and Lord of lords. This cunning brigand was trying to revive a movement begun by Judas and he had even given it a name: Zealots.
The speech was over and the men milled about. Gestas grabbed Demas. “Come with me. I want to introduce you.”
Demas reluctantly followed his brother up to the charismatic speaker.
They were the first to approach him. Others seemed intimidated by the man’s presence.
Not Demas.
“Gestas,” said the speaker with a delighted look, “I see you have brought your famous brother.”
Demas cringed. A master of flattery as well.
Gestas said, “Demas, I want you to meet Jesus, the leader of the Zealots.”
“Call me Barabbas.”
Demas gritted his teeth with distrust. Bar Abbas meant Son of the Father. Was this religious fanatic one of the delusional messiah pretenders?
Barabbas said, “We could use a good fighter like you for the cause.”
Demas replied, “I am afraid I do not share your enthusiasm for lost causes.”
“Lost?” said Barabbas. “On the contrary. Messiah is the only winning cause there is.”
“Excuse me,” interrupted Gestas. “I will leave you two to argue. I have to speak with Jacob and Demetrius.” Gestas left them.
Demas said to Barabbas, “You are one of many brigand leaders and their messianic claims to such zealous devotion.”
“Indeed,” said Barabbas. “There is more than one shepherd who is sounding the alarm. But eventually, we will all unite in purpose.”
“I am not so sure you would find me an obedient sheep,” said Demas with a smile. He saw Barabbas as the same kind of controlling tyrant as all the others.
Barabbas smiled back. “An independent spirit. I like that. But do you really believe you belong to no community, obedient to no one but yourself?”
Demas felt like a man without a country, caught between two worlds, both of which he did not feel fully a part of.
“I distrust lawlessness as much as tyranny.”
Barabbas continued, “In this very city, they hung the decapitated corpse of Israel’s first king, Saul, on the walls of a temple to Ashtoreth.” Demas knew his history. Scythopolis had been Beth-Shan in those days. Barabbas was using the word “Ashtoreth” as an insult that combined the goddess’ name Asherah with the Hebrew word for shame, bosheth. His zeal filled every word he used.
Demas said, “Why did you leave your community at Qumran?”
Barabbas felt the sting of the challenge, but rose to it. “I got tired of a bunch of whining talkers who sat around attacking everything with their words but doing nothing with their actions. Nothing. They think Yahweh will come and save them, so they neglect their god-given duty to participate in real change. We Jews are a contentious lot. Essenes, Pharisees, Sadducees, Herodians. We spend more time fighting amongst ourselves as to who is the true people of God, while the godless take away our liberty to be the people of God.”
Maybe this arrogant upstart wasn’t all bad.
Barabbas challenged Demas, “Do you consider yourself a part of the people of God?”
“What do you consider the mark of membership?” said Demas.
“Circumcision and Sabbath to begin with.”
Demas grabbed his outer garment and began to pull it up. “Do you require verification to listen to your sermons?”
Barabbas smiled. “No. But then there is the first commandment from Sinai. ‘No king but God.’ Do you agree?”
Before Demas could formulate his dodge for that one, they were interrupted by a man screaming. “Run! Roman Vigiles!” Vigiles were the watchmen of the city, established by Augustus to keep the order and police urban crimes.
Demas and Barabbas were by a pillared exit. They looked into the atrium and saw a cohort of Roman soldiers burst in from all around them. They were surrounded by twenty or more. The Jews scattered.
A Centurion called out, “You are under arrest for sedition!”
They knew the punishment for sedition: crucifixion. They had to get out of there.
Some men had drawn their weapons to protect themselves. But Demas could not see Gestas.
Suddenly, two Roman soldiers were upon them. Demas drew his sword and without hesitation cut them both down in swift, easy moves.
He looked over at an impressed Barabbas, who whispered. “Follow me. I know a way out.”
“But my brother.”
“He will be fine. He knows the rendezvous.”
Barabbas slipped through the shadows into a passageway. Demas hesitated. But he could not see Gestas anywhere. He must have already left. Demas followed Barabbas into the darkness.
They made their way through corridors, avoiding a few Roman soldiers rushing about. Then they were out in the moonlight of the city.
Barabbas took him down dark alleyways to where some horses were tied up. They leapt upon them and raced out of the city to the desert hills.
Barabbas and Demas galloped their horses into the highlands of Samaria a couple miles outside the valley and the city. As they approached a rocky pass, Barabbas stopped and held Demas back. He made a whistle call, and Demas heard a response.
He looked above them and saw a dozen brigands, with arrows pointed at them, relax their aim to allow them through.
They approached a group of small, hidden caves with a hundred men milling about. Many of them recognized their leader and came to hear his report. Demas got cautious looks from most of them until Barabbas said, “He saved my life. He is with us.”
He is with us. Demas didn’t protest, but it angered him that this smooth tongue was trying to pull Demas into his game.
They got off their horses and were given some drink.
Within a half hour, a handful of others arrived with some of the audience from the collegium.
Gestas was not with them.
“What news?” asked Barabbas, as they gathered around the fire.
A burly man spoke up. “Jacob and Demetrius are dead, along with a few of the recruits. We brought these with us.”
Barabbas looked over at the dozen or so recruits. “Congratulations men, whether you like it or not…,” he looked at Demas, “you are now a part of the Zealot insurrection.”
Demas ignored it. Let him think what he liked. He asked, “What about Gestas? Is he coming?”
The burly one looked fearfully at Barabbas. “Gestas was captured.”
Demas’ heart stopped beating. He became short of breath.
“Will he give us up?” another one asked.
Demas looked closely at Barabbas to see how he would respond. Would he have to kill this influential leader?
Barabbas said, “No. Gestas is true. But we must free him to afford these Kittim no opportunity.” He looked straight at Demas. “What do you say, Demas? Will you join us in liberating your brother and ours?”
Chapter 5
Demas, Barabbas and eight other bandits hid in the shadows of moonlight. They looked up at the stone citadel where Gestas was imprisoned under Roman guard. Its imposing presence discouraged even Demas. It was a massive tower buildi
ng of stone, six or more stories high, and no telling how deep. Four heavily armed and alert legionaries guarded the entrance. This was not going to be easy.
“If only we had an insider,” said Demas. “Someone who could help us without being discovered.”
Barabbas whispered, “I am taking care of that. Daniel will be here shortly with help.”
“What kind of help?” asked Demas.
“Wait and see.”
Demas shook his head. He always had to maintain control, this one. “We can’t scale the walls. They have a mobile sentry. Our only chance would be to enter through the sewage system.”
The others rolled their eyes. They did not relish the idea of sloshing through stinking filthy human waste-filled waters. The thought alone made one of them gag.
“Half of us can enter up through the latrine. The other half could strike from outside as a diversion. They would never expect it.”
“And we would never forget it,” said the one who gagged.
Suddenly the sound of a soldier approaching drew them back into the shadows. His legionary uniform with squeaky leather body armor, and clinking metal plates on chainmail gave him away long before he could see them.
It was a centurion. The transverse red crest or brush on the helmet indicated his rank at a distance.
A centurion? thought Demas. What is a centurion doing out here? Did someone report us? would there be a guard with him?
Demas grabbed his dagger, ready to lunge. The goal would be to kill quickly before he could make a sound.
The centurion stopped. He looked into the corner where the men where hiding.
Demas prepared to jump the Roman and cut his throat, when the soldier whispered, “Barabbas?”
Barabbas stepped out and gestured for the others to follow. “It’s okay. This is Daniel.”
Demas said, “You have a legionary contact?”
“Well, no actually. Daniel is one of the actors at the theater with Gestas. This is one of their costumes from the plays.”
“Excellent,” said Demas. “Take it off.”
Demas approached the citadel entrance in the centurion outfit shoving a chained Barabbas in front of him as a fake prisoner. The legionary armor was authentic, since their playmaster believed in using the real thing. It was all quite uncomfortable and heavy. He wondered how anyone could fight effectively weighed down by all this armor. And he could already feel it strafing his arms underneath.
They stopped by the four guards at the entrance and saluted.
Demas said, “I caught another Jewish insurgent.” Barabbas kept his head down to avoid recognition. His shackles were held closed by a tiny string that he could snap open with one yank. He carried a dagger beneath his cloak.
One of the guards answered, “We have special orders, sir, not to allow any entry.”
Right now, Demas was wishing he had his brother’s acting skills. He could very well ruin this entire plan.
“Of course, soldier. And why is that?”
“Because of the importance of our prisoner. He is an insurgent.”
Demas acted impatient with the soldier’s ignorance. “Exactly. And who did I just tell you I have with me as prisoner, you moron? Another insurgent.”
“Sir, we were told to report anything like this directly to the Tribune.” The Tribune was over the centurions and was usually an aristocrat on his way up the ladder of political power.
“Then report it, fool. And let me through. I don’t have time for your incompetence.”
“Yes, sir.” The soldier jogged off to make his report.
Demas demanded, “Where is the other prisoner?”
The soldier straightened up. “The normal cells, sir.”
Oh great, thought Demas. If I have to ask where the normal cells are, he will surely find me out.
He would just have to wing it and pretend he knew where he was going.
He pushed Barabbas past the guards and they entered the belly of the beast.
Demas had no idea where they were going.
They walked down a corridor and heard several soldiers on break playing dice. They passed that room and found themselves in a stairwell. The tower was about six floors tall and they were on the ground level.
Demas whispered, “What do you think, up or down?”
“Up,” muttered Barabbas.
Demas pushed him to take the stairs down. It was a power play at a dangerous moment.
It was one flight to the bottom. The stairs opened up to a hallway that led up to a guard post with two more soldiers. Demas still could not be sure this was the right way, but the guards saw them now, and they could not step back into the stairwell without drawing suspicion. He had to move forward and look like he knew what he was doing.
Halfway down the hall, They passed the latrine on the right. Demas smiled to himself remembering the bandit who had gagged at the thought of it.
When they arrived at the guard post, Demas noticed the bars on the door.
“Legionaries,” he said with as much assurance as he could muster, “I have another insurgent on orders from Tribune Gallus. Open up.”
One of the guards, an older gruffy soldier, looked at him funny. He said, “Tribune Gallus is over in Pella. Do you have your papers, sir?”
Demas had thought Gallus was the local Tribune. Did he transfer or was his just visiting Pella?
“I expect more respect when you address your superior. Gallus had no time to write up papers. We are on the trail of more insurgents and I need to drop off this prisoner immediately.”
Barabbas saw the gruffy one slowly place his hand on the hilt of his sword. The other guard did as well. Barabbas tightened, ready to spring.
The soldier said, “I am sorry, sir, I mean no disrespect. However, we are under orders of the Tribune.”
They were interrupted by the sound of two soldiers arriving from the stairs. Evidently replacements. Fresh and armed.
Oh no, thought Demas. He turned back to the gruffy one, who was now smiling.
The Roman said, “Sir, Gallus is not the Tribune here. Caius is. But you would know that if you were a true centurion.”
The soldiers both drew their weapons.
Barabbas moved with lightning speed. He snapped open his shackles. He pulled the dagger from the belt of one of the guards beside him and jammed it into the man’s throat. The guard choked and dropped to the floor.
The gruff one swung immediately at Demas. Demas dodged the blade and drew his own.
The soldier yelled to the two men approaching Demas from the rear, “Soldiers! This centurion is an imposter!”
The other soldiers paused for a moment, surprised by what they just heard.
Barabbas drew the dead guard’s sword and faced off against the gruff one.
Demas turned to face the others. For a moment, he was reminded of how he had been attacked by multiple beasts at once in the arena not many days ago. This time, he had help.
Inside the holding cell of the stone dungeon, Gestas woke from his sleep, roused by the commotion just outside the door. He heard swords clash. He saw a head hit the bars on the door window and slide down out of sight. He heard the gurgling cries of death beneath a swift sword.
He could only think one thing, Demas.
The sound of keys fumbling in the lock was followed by the dungeon door opening up to Barabbas and his brother.
Demas said, “We are getting you out of here.”
Demas ran over to the cell door and opened it as Barabbas stood watch.
The brothers embraced. Demas handed Gestas a sword. “This is not the stage, Gestas. Strike with surety or we will not get out of here alive.”
Demas led them out the door and through the hall over the four bodies of the dead soldiers.
Wait, thought Demas. There are only three. I thought we got them all.
The three of them bounded up the stairway and arrived at the walkway out of the building.
Demas whispered, “Hide your swords.
You are my captives.”
Gestas and Barabbas responded immediately.
The guards at the entrance had seen them and were watching them approach. They were fifty feet away.
Demas held onto Gestas by the gruff of the neck as if to pull him along in his charge. “We are under attack. I’m getting these two out of here.”
They were almost upon the exit when the wounded soldier Demas thought he had killed arrived limping with four more soldiers.
“That’s him!” yelled the wounded man. He collapsed to the ground. One of guards at the entrance sounded a ram’s horn.
Demas, Barabbas and Gestas turned around and ran back the way they had come.
At the end of the hall, they saw to their left an opening to a small courtyard, where ten other soldiers where bounding their way toward them.
They entered the stairway to climb to the top, but they heard another dozen soldiers above them on their way down.
Demas looked out and saw the eight bandits they had left outside the prison attacking the soldiers at the entrance.
But they could not go back into the fray. It would be a slaughter. “There is only one way,” said Barabbas. They bounded down the stairs back to the dungeon area.
They heard the soldiers exit the stairway into the hall, to fight the other bandits. Good. They were temporarily unnoticed.
They ran back towards the cell. Demas stripped off his centurion garb.
Gestas spit out, “It’s a dead end. We’ve run back into the bowels of hell.”
“Precisely, Gestas,” said Barabbas. “So that we can be shit out of here.” He pulled them to the latrine room, lined with toilet holes carved in wooden covers over a long ledge built for a dozen men to sit upon.
“We are going out the sewer system.”
They pulled off two toilet seats. Demas was down to his tunic. “Hold your nose.” They were using Demas’ plan after all, only in reverse.
They climbed into the portals and landed down in the sewage system, with a splash of filthy water.
Gestas exclaimed, “Disgusting.”
“It was your brother’s idea,” quipped Barabbas.
“I must say, Demas,” said Gestas. “You always were an asshole.”
