On the morning of their twenty-second day in the cell, a pair of women stopped briefly just outside their window, speaking in hushed tones. The spacemen’s Aramaic was still rudimentary, but they were able to make out the name Masada. Sixty years earlier, the Roman siege of the fortress by that name had ended in mass suicide. A group of men walked by, talking loudly and drowning out the conversation. When they had passed, the women were gone.
“This is our fault,” said Schwartz, sitting on the stone floor, her back against the wall. She stared blankly at the tiny window, through which poured a narrow shaft of sunlight. Jason and Josh Creed sat with their backs against the opposite wall. The cool stone provided some relief from the sweltering heat of their prison. The air smelled of old sweat and urine.
“How do you figure that?” Creed asked.
“If we hadn’t proclaimed Simon ben Kosevah the messiah, the Romans would have put down the revolt quickly. We got the people’s hopes up, and because of that, thousands more will die.”
“The outcome of this war was determined before we ever got here, Schwartz.”
“Then this is all a big joke,” Schwartz said bitterly. “We can’t change anything.”
“We can’t change Earth history,” Jason said. “But that was our assumption from the beginning. In changing it, we caused it to unfold exactly as it was always going to. But we can still change the future.”
“How?” Schwartz asked. “We’re in a dungeon underneath a fort that’s about to be overrun by Roman legions.”
“We know the rebels have tunnels all over the place,” said Jason. “I’d bet my pension that there are escape routes from this fort that the Romans don’t know about. Right now Simon ben Kosevah is still in denial about his chances in this war, but he’s not stupid.”
“I get the impression he doesn’t even buy all this moschiach business,” Creed said. “He’s just using religion to prop up his political agenda.”
“He does care about the Jewish people, though,” Jason said. “We can use that. Eventually, he’s going to realize there’s no victory scenario for him here, and he’s going to get desperate to preserve something of his legacy. I wish we knew exactly how long this siege lasts.” Having overrun Herodium, Severus’s troops had begun to mass around Betar. They had already blocked the roads and seized the fort’s water supply. Refugees from Herodium and many nearby towns had fled to Betar, swelling its population to nearly ten thousand. Unless they could break the siege, Betar would run out of food and water in a matter of weeks.
“The historical record is unclear,” said Schwartz. “All we know for sure is that the Romans eventually take the fort and slaughter hundreds, if not thousands. There is a story of the brains of three hundred children being found smashed on a rock.”
“Jesus Christ,” murmured Creed.
“The question is,” said Jason, “do we tell Simon what we know?”
“If he knows his rebellion is doomed, he has no reason to keep us alive,” said Schwartz.
“On the other hand,” said Creed, “it could cement our status as prophets.”
“That’s the quandary,” said Jason. “If we play it safe, we’ll probably end up dead or prisoners of the Romans. Better to go out with a bang, I suppose.” He got to his feet and walked to the window. In his best Aramaic, he yelled to the guards that he had information for Eleazar of Modi’im.
Chapter Fifty
“Nasi, we cannot hold out much longer. Perhaps we should consider the strangers’ offer.”
“Their offer to carry fifty of our women to heaven aboard their sky ship,” said Simon, with a smirk.
“Three times they have prophesied. They pronounced you the moschiach, setting our movement afire throughout the Levant. They warned you of the fall of Herodium. And now, though locked in a cell, they tell us that Betar too will fall to the Romans. You and I have seen the legions assembling, Nasi. We do not have long.”
The Romans had set up camp in the hills to the southeast, overlooking the city. They had quickly located the spring and set up a picket to prevent those in the city from replenishing their water supply. Another cohort had begun erecting a siege wall to seal off the city. The mood among the people inside the walls of Betar was tense.
“So it would appear to one with little faith in the moschiach.”
“You fall under the spell of your own propaganda, Nasi.”
“You deny that I am the savior of Israel? Speak with care, Uncle.”
“I believe you are an agent of God, Nasi. Perhaps you are even the moschiach. But does not the Torah teach us that the ways of God are not our ways? Perhaps the Lord intended for you to preserve the Jews through these strangers.”
“You suppose that God has delivered us into the hands of our enemies so that we would be forced to give our women over to these strangers, who do not know our ways nor speak our language?”
“Only fifty women, Nasi.”
“Yes, fifty young, nubile women! Such mercy these strangers show us. Have they offered to carry away our gold and silver as well?”
“My understanding, Nasi, is that they intend to take the women to their land to ensure the survival of their kind. There are too few of the foreigners to maintain their line. They ask as well for seed from our men. They intend to keep it on ice, as is sometimes done to preserve meat, to maintain its potency.”
“They ask not only that we give up our women, but that our men commit the sin of Onan for their amusement? The strangers are mad, Uncle, and they have infected you with their insanity. You are not to speak with them again. I shall have them executed in the morning.”
“You must not do this thing, Nasi. I do not know if the strangers are angels, but there is something strange about them—something that fills me with a sense of foreboding. I’m afraid that if we were to kill them, something terrible will happen.”
“Did they tell you this as well?”
“They told me only that their people will perish.”
“Let them. I have enough trouble worrying about the Jews.”
“They did tell me one other thing, Nasi.”
“Yes?”
Eleazar hesitated. “They told me that if I remain with you, you will kill me.”
“Dearest Uncle!” cried Simon, moving to throw his arms around Eleazar. “Now you must know for certain that they are liars or madmen. You have been my staunchest ally. Never would I do such a thing.”
“As you say, Nasi.”
“It is late, and the burdens of the day have muddled your thinking. Go to bed, Eleazar. We shall deal with the strangers tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Nasi.”
“Goodnight, Uncle.”
*****
Mika Schwartz had been dozing on the floor of the cell when she was awakened by the sound of Olson’s voice over the comm. Jason had removed it from his ear and activated the speaker so they could all hear it. “Gleeson says Freedom is ready to launch,” Olson said. “We’re going to surface tomorrow just before sundown and then head for shore. I’ve got a team ready to get you. We’ve been considering our options, and I know you’re wary about interfering with history, but I don’t think we have any choice. If Simon bar Kochba is at Betar, the war is almost over. The Romans have got to have the city surrounded by now. Going native isn’t going to cut it. We don’t know the terrain and we don’t speak the language. I’m sending a team equipped with twenty-third century tech. Ten men with rifles, radios and night-vision goggles. They’re going to take the main roads, and if anybody tries to stop them, they’re authorized to shoot to kill. With any luck, they’ll be at Betar by morning. If there’s any way you can get a signal to us, it would be helpful in determining your exact position. Otherwise, hold tight and we’ll get to you.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Jason muttered. “He’s going to get us all killed.”
Schwartz sat up, now completely awake. By the faint moonlight coming through the window, she could just make out her companions’ faces. “I don’t
think Olson has a good sense of the sort of opposition his team is going to face,” she said. “His team can punch through a group of Roman sentries, but word is going to spread fast. By the time they reach Betar, they’ll be facing down an entire legion.”
“Well, I guess we’ll get to see once and for all whether it’s possible to change history,” said Creed.
There was the sound of footsteps. “Shh!” Schwartz hissed. “Somebody’s coming.”
Jason turned off the comm and slipped it inside his robe. A moment later, the door to their cell opened. Eleazar stood in the doorway. “Come,” he said, beckoning to them.
The spacemen glanced at each other, unsure what was happening. Eleazar seemed to be alone. If they were going to be tortured or executed, he would have brought soldiers with him. Did he intend to let them go?
Eleazar moved away down the hall, and they followed, Jason in the lead. They went up a flight of stone steps and down another narrow hall. Eleazar opened a door and they followed him outside to a moonlit courtyard. He glanced about as if checking for sentries and then continued across the courtyard to another building. They followed as he went inside and down into a cellar. He grabbed a torch from a basket and lit it from another in a wall sconce, then handed it to Jason.
“Go,” he said, gesturing toward a narrow opening in the far wall. As Jason held up the torch, Schwartz realized it was the mouth of a tunnel. Eleazar said something about the passage going to a cave west of the city. “Speak my name,” he said, followed by another sentence Schwartz couldn’t decipher.
“There are men at the cave?” asked Jason.
“Men, yes. Speak my name. They will help you. Go to your sky ship.”
“Why?” asked Jason.
“It is not safe here. Go.” With that, he turned and went back up the stairs, leaving the three spacemen alone.
Jason glanced at the others and then turned, taking a step toward the passage. He could feel cool air coming from it.
“Sir?” asked Creed, as Jason hesitated.
“I don’t like it,” Jason said.
“What’s not to like, sir?” asked Schwartz. “He’s letting us go!”
Jason pulled out the comm and tapped the transmit button. “Olson, you read me?”
Silence.
“Olson. Anyone aboard Freedom. This is the captain. Can you hear me?”
Still there was no response.
“We’re probably too far underground, sir,” said Creed. “We can contact Freedom when we get to the other side.”
“If we leave now,” Jason said, “our mission is doomed.”
“It’s also doomed if we don’t leave,” Schwartz said. “Once Olson dispatches his commando team, all hell is going to break loose.”
“Suppose we get to the other side of this tunnel in time to tell Olson to call off his rescue mission,” said Jason. “Then what? The moment Freedom comes ashore, the clock is ticking. We can’t leave her parked on the shore while we go look for colonists. She’ll be overrun by Roman soldiers in a matter of hours. Setting aside the problem of interfering with history, we don’t have the manpower or the guns to wage war with the Roman Empire. We’ve got one chance to launch, but if we leave Earth now, we’re in the same position as we were before we arrived. With a little luck, we can last a few generations, but then we’re done. Humanity’s insurance policy is officially canceled.”
“What’s the alternative, sir?” asked Creed.
“We follow the plan. We leave here with the payload. You saw Eleazar’s face when I explained it to him. He understood. More importantly, he understands what a Jewish defeat in this war will mean.”
Schwartz nodded grimly. “Hadrian tries to eradicate Jewish nationalism in Judea. He outlaws the Torah and the Jewish calendar and executes hundreds of scholars, as well as massacring thousands of ordinary people. The Temple is never rebuilt. Jews are forbidden to enter the city built on the site of Jerusalem, and the sacred scrolls of Judaism are ceremonially burned on the Temple Mount. Judaea is renamed Palestine. Israel doesn’t exist as an independent entity until after the Second World War.”
“Hadrian does his damnedest to wipe the Jewish people off the map,” Jason said. “We know that he doesn’t ultimately succeed, but from Eleazar’s perspective, it looks very much like impending genocide. And he’s not far off.”
“I get it,” Creed said. “From Eleazar’s point of view, handing over a bunch of his people to strangers from an unknown land is starting to seem like a pretty good option. He may even think this is the salvation promised in the Old Testament. Judaea is destroyed, but descendants of Israel live on.”
“The problem is,” said Schwartz, “we’re not just dealing with Eleazar. Somehow we have to convince Simon.”
“Presumably Eleazar tried,” Creed said. “What makes you think we can succeed where he failed?”
“We have to try,” said Jason. “We have no other options. Let’s go.” He went back up the stairs, the other two reluctantly following.
“I’m not afraid to die,” said Creed quietly, as they ascended, “but I really don’t want to be tortured.”
“With any luck,” said Schwartz. “Simon’s men are too busy to torture us. Most likely we’ll face quick execution.”
“I was thinking of the Romans,” said Creed.
“Oh. Just swear your allegiance to Jupiter and the Emperor and you’ll be fine.”
“They’ll let me live?”
Schwartz laughed. “No, but they might not torture you before they execute you.”
“Quiet!” snapped Jason. They had reached the door to the outside. He opened it and he scanned the courtyard for sentries. He saw only a lone figure kneeling in the courtyard.
“Is that…?” Creed asked.
“Eleazar,” Jason said. “Looks like he’s praying. Wait here.” He handed the torch to Schwartz and walked quickly across the courtyard.
“Oh, shit,” said Schwartz, as he receded into the darkness.
“What is it, Schwartz?” asked Creed.
Schwartz considered calling out to Jason but, spotting a sentry across the courtyard, remained silent. “It’s just…” she said, watching Jason stop before Eleazar, “this reminds me of a story I heard once.”
Chapter Fifty-one
Simon bar Kochba looked down from the tallest tower in Betar on the distant torches of the Roman encampment. Hundreds of lights, each of them representing a hundred or more soldiers. He smiled. He had done this—forced the greatest empire the world had ever known to send tens of thousands of men across the world to put out a fire he had started. There had been a time when he could have negotiated for terms, but that time had passed. Now there could only be victory or defeat.
It was becoming increasingly difficult, he had to admit, to imagine circumstances in which the Jews prevailed. Fleeing to Betar had been an act of defense and desperation, and his men knew it. Their fervor had faded as the siege went on, supplanted by worry and an unease that hung over the city like a miasma. Even Eleazar, who had been a rock for him to lean on since the beginning of war, had begun to lose hope. The capture of Rabbi Akiva had been a blow, but without Eleazar, Simon was not certain he could carry on. Eleazar had always been there to steady him, at moments when his revolutionary passion would have prompted him to take brash actions and during the times his melancholy threatened to overwhelm him.
He pulled himself away from the view of the hillside and made to descend the stairs to his quarters. As he did, though, movement in the courtyard caught his eye. A tall man he could not immediately identify was cutting across the grounds, carrying neither lantern nor torch. Simon went to the window to see what the man was up to.
The tall man stopped before another, who was kneeling in the center of the courtyard. Why, that was Eleazar! Had he not instructed his uncle to go to bed? What was he doing with this other man? Eleazar remained kneeling while the other man spoke to him. Eleazar did not respond, but… was he nodding? Simon could not be sure. S
uddenly he realized who the man was: he was Yeh-son, the leader of the foreigners! And there, huddled in a doorway with a torch, were the two others, the young man and the woman. Had Eleazar freed them? The thought enraged Simon. Betrayed by my closest friend and advisor, my own blood! Fearing that if he called out, the two would flee to the building where the others wait and escape through the tunnel, he made his way rapidly down the stairs to confront them.
*****
Schwartz watched as Jason left Eleazar kneeling in the courtyard and walked quickly to where Schwartz and Creed waited. They went inside the little building and he closed the door behind them. They huddled in the dim, flickering light of the torch, which Schwartz had placed in a sconce on the far wall.
“What did he say?” Creed asked.
“Nothing,” Jason replied. “He’s praying. It was like he didn’t hear a word I said.”
“Hell,” said Schwartz, looking out a window to the courtyard. “Now what?”
Jason came up next to her. “I told him we’re not leaving. Said we would wait for him here.”
“For how long?” Creed asked.
“Until he’s done praying, I guess,” Jason said. He’s our best chance to get through to Simon.”
“Sir,” said Schwartz, “This may not mean anything, but according to an old legend, Eleazar—”
“Someone’s coming!” Creed said.
Schwartz turned again to look out the window. “Oh no. Oh no.”
Simon burst out of the door into the courtyard. Eleazar, still deep in prayer, was perhaps thirty paces away. Simon ran swiftly and silently across the stone. As he neared his uncle, be began screaming words at Eleazar the spacemen couldn’t understand. Eleazar, eyes closed and hands clasped, did not stir. Slowing to plant his left foot on the ground, Simon raised his right to kick Eleazar hard in the chest. Eleazar was thrown sprawling by the blow. Arms flailing, he fell to the ground, his head striking the stone with a crack that could be heard throughout the courtyard.
The Legacy of the Iron Dragon: An Alternate History Viking Epic Page 32
