Arrest Sebastianus! By Mithras, how was he going to do that?
Cold sweat sprouted between his shoulder blades. Since arriving in Babylon, Primo had heard strange, dark rumors about Emperor Nero, his impulsiveness, his suspected insanity. Especially his ruthlessness. That he killed messengers bearing bad news. But what would happen if Primo did not report his master's disloyalty and Nero found out? Primo shuddered to think. Even a hardened old soldier like himself grew faint at the thought of the grisly ways some men were put to death in the Great Circus. And what of Sebastianus? Would Primo's report result in so drastic an action as execution?
Primo decided he must prepare a response should the emperor demand to know why Gallus had tarried so long in Babylon. Primo would declare: "Oh mighty Caesar, my master was engaged in complex commerce in order to bind Babylon more closely to Rome, and to show those unworthy foreigners the advantage of being financially and economically bound to Rome—in fact, glorious Caesar, to demonstrate the lowly Babylonians' great luck to have Caesar look favorably upon them!"
It was a long speech for an old soldier, but Primo would practice it from here to the imperial audience chamber and make himself sound as convincing as possible.
He scratched his chest and felt, beneath his white tunic, the lucky arrowhead he had put on a string to wear beneath his clothes. The German arrowhead that had missed his heart by a hair. And Primo was struck by inspiration. "Perhaps the noble Publius would honor my master by receiving one of the Chinese treasures as a gift?"
The Roman wrinkled his nose. "You wouldn't be attempting to bribe me would you, Primo Fidus? I could have you skinned alive. Find your master! Tell him he is under imperial orders to get his caravan to Rome in the quickest order. I must travel to Magna today and meet with the queen. I will return in a month's time. I expect to see no sign of Sebastianus Gallus and his caravan here in Babylon!"
35
I
ONLY HAVE A FEW things to collect," Ulrika said as she led Sebastianus down a narrow, winding alley in the city, toward the house she shared with a seamstress. "I have learned to travel light."
They entered a wider street, where a marketplace stood in the shadow of the massive Hall of Justice—a towering ziggurat that rose in terraces splendidly landscaped with trees and shrubs and cascading vines. Here vendors hawked garlic and leeks, onions and beans. Sellers of bread and cheese called out their prices, while merchants shouted the merits of their various wines.
Suddenly they heard trumpets blare at the end of the street. A voice called, "Make way! Make way in the name of the great god Marduk!"
Ulrika and Sebastianus saw a contingent of priests appear around the corner, and behind them, temple guards leading five men in chains. Pedestrians immediately fell back, with donkeys and horses pulled aside. People came out of doorways to watch the curious parade.
As a crowd quickly gathered, Sebastianus drew Ulrika into the protection of a recessed doorway.
Among the white-robed priests, one stood out. The High Priest's head was shaved smooth like a polished stone. He wore no adornment over his long white robe. This singled him out of all men in Babylon, who strove to outdo each other in fringed clothes and tall cone hats, walking staffs and shoes with curled toes. When the High Priest walked down a street, people stopped and bowed and then looked away, afraid of his magnificence and power. Ulrika had heard that his authority was greater even than that of the provincial governor from Persia and the puppet prince who sat on Babylon's ancient throne.
Bringing the small procession to a halt in the square, the High Priest struck his staff on the paving stones and called out in a ringing voice: "Babylon has been infested with false prophets, wonder-workers, healers, and charlatans who seduce citizens away from the true faith. We arrested these swindlers and brought them to the Plaza of the Seven Virgins, where they stood trial for their crimes. Having been found guilty, they will be strung up by their ankles and left here to die as an example to others. In addition, their bodies will not be returned to their families for proper burial but will suffer the additional fate of being burned on a common pyre and their worthless ashes poured into the river.
"Know then their crimes," he declared as he pointed to each man with his staff. "Alexamos the Greek, guilty of selling blemished doves and lambs for sacrifice to Ishtar! Judah the Israelite, guilty of offenses against the gods of Babylon by calling them false, and making unfounded accusations against the priests of Marduk! Kosh the Egyptian, guilty of selling goat's milk and claiming it to be from the breasts of Ishtar! Myron of Crete, guilty of murdering a sacred prostitute of Ishtar! Simon of Caesarea, guilty of professing to speak to the dead."
He struck his staff again and the guards prodded the wretches forward, so that Ulrika could now see the horrible treatment they had suffered. Trial was not enough. The five had been tortured and branded.
Her heart went out to them. And then in the next instant her heart stopped in her chest. Rabbi Judah!
And then she saw, behind the guards, a group of men and women wailing and holding onto one another. Miriam and her family.
When Ulrika first returned from Persia, she had paid a visit to Miriam to thank the prophetess for setting her on the right path—Ulrika had indeed found a prince who led her to Shalamandar, as Miriam had prophesied. In the time since, Ulrika had not returned to the house of Rabbi Judah, nor had she heard him preach, but she knew of his growing reputation as a faith healer and a man who worked miracles.
"Sebastianus," Ulrika said as the five men were unchained and lined up in front of the wall. At the top, guards were lowering ropes. "We have to stop this! I know that man. He helped me once."
Sebastianus eyed the guards—the shields and spears and daggers. Then he stepped forward, saying, "Wait—"
But one of the guards was immediately blocking his path, spear lowered, lethal tip leveled at Sebastianus's chest.
Ulrika watched in horror as the condemned men's clothes were removed. She wondered if they were drugged, for they appeared dazed and not aware of what was happening to them.
But then she realized that Rabbi Judah had received no such humane treatment, for he stood tall and proud as the soldiers stripped him naked and then cut off his long curls and hacked away at his beard. Those in the crowd who had never seen a circumcised man gawked and pointed, some laughed and shouted insults.
The women in Judah's family screamed and covered their eyes. One of them fainted and fell into the arms of two male relatives. Judah remained impassive, his eyes above the crowd as the soldiers made quick work of his clothes.
When a soldier prepared to sever the leather straps from Judah's arm and forehead, the High Priest stayed him, saying, "Leave his precious religious symbols in place, so that the people will see his offense against Marduk. And also so that his god can see him and perhaps rescue him."
Ulrika went numb as she watched the guards tie ropes around the men's ankles. Without ceremony, their feet were pulled out from under them. They fell to the ground. Two hit their heads and were mercifully knocked unconscious. Another two began to shriek and beg for mercy and promised to worship Marduk for the rest of their lives.
Sebastianus put his arm around Ulrika and tried to shield her from the horrifying spectacle, but she needed to watch.
Judah remained silent as he fell to his knees, as he was then dragged like a doll to the wall, as his feet were slowly hoisted and up the wall he went, upside down, his arms dropping down. Ulrika saw his lips moving. She knew he was praying.
His family pressed forward, crying out and begging for mercy. The guards pushed them back and the High Priest, striking his staff once more, warned the onlookers that such a fate awaited anyone who did not obey the laws of Marduk and Babylon.
Then he turned and moved on, his back to five groaning men hanging from the wall, their cries ignored, their families and friends pleading for mercy. A few guards stayed, to make sure no one tried to cut them down. Ulrika knew they would stand watch until
all five were dead and then bring the corpses to the garbage dump on the outskirts of the city, there to be burned along with the corpses of dogs and cats, and the filth and refuse of a city's population.
Ulrika went to the family, but Miriam said, "Ulrika, please do not look upon my husband's nakedness. Please do not witness his shame. Go home, Ulrika, and pray for him."
"But there must be something we can do! We cannot just leave him there!" She pressed her fingers to her mouth. She felt sick.
And then she felt a strong hand on her arm, and heard a deep voice say, "Come away. You should not watch this."
"Sebastianus, we must do something!"
Miriam persuaded Ulrika to leave, asking her to pray for Judah, until Sebastianus took her back to the caravan, where he held her in his arms, tenderly kissing and caressing her, brushing away her tears, holding her as she wept, until she fell asleep.
When Ulrika woke it was late afternoon, and Sebastianus was not in the tent. Her head ached and her throat was parched. Refreshing herself with water, she washed her hands and then she sat among Sebastianus's silken cushions and statues of Chinese gods, crossing her legs and clasping the scallop shell. With passion, Ulrika prayed to the Goddess to show mercy to the poor executed men.
When Sebastianus returned, night had fallen. "I tried to intercede on your friend's behalf," he said wearily. "I went to my rich and powerful friends in the city, I even went to the governor, but they all said they had no power to match that of the priests of Marduk. I then went to the temple and offered to fill their coffers if they would release the condemned men. But no amount of riches could move the High Priest. I am sorry, Ulrika."
She slipped into the comforting embrace of his strong arms and, closing her eyes, held tightly to Sebastianus as if he were an island in a stormy sea.
ULRIKA FOUND HERSELF IN A STRANGE PLACE.
She was not in Sebastianus's tent, but in wilderness. It was night, the moon nearly full, casting the desert in a silver landscape. "Sebastianus?" she called, as she turned in a slow circle. She saw that she stood in front of ruins, moonlit and ghostly, out in the middle of the dunes, with the lights of Babylon far in the distance. She recognized it as a place called Daniel's Castle, which lay some ten miles from Babylon. Legend told of a prophet named Daniel who had lived in Babylon long ago, and it was said that he was buried here. The "castle" stood against frosty stars, cold, deserted. It felt otherworldly, as if Ulrika had stepped through an invisible portal and were now in the realm of the supernatural. She turned her face to the wind and thought: This place is ancient beyond measure. Long before the prophet Daniel read mysterious words written on a wall, this ground was hallowed.
Spirits dwelled here.
It was a queer monument. Even though crumbling and falling down, its original shape and intention could still be seen: a massive square block with a smaller square block on top, with no apparent entrance or openings. And it seemed much older than a mere few centuries. There was none of the surviving detail Ulrika had seen at Persepolis. These limestone walls appeared to have been sandblasted by winds over a thousand years or more. Was the prophet Daniel buried here? Were perhaps many people buried here, laid to rest by loved ones down through the ages in the hope that proximity to a sacred site would guarantee the deceased's entry into paradise?
When a man came from around the side, Ulrika jumped. "You startled me," she said. And then she saw that it was Rabbi Judah, dressed in the familiar robes and fringed shawl of his religious calling. "You are alive!" she said, and took a step toward him.
"Do not approach me, Ulrika," he said. "You cannot come near me. I have come with a plea. Do not let them burn me."
"What do you mean?"
"My body must be preserved. Save me from the fire. Tell my family to bring me to this place and bury me here. Tell them to remember me."
The dream-vision ended and Ulrika awoke, her face damp with tears. Sebastianus was still asleep. She began to cry and he opened his eyes. "What is it, my love?" he whispered.
"Rabbi Judah is dead."
Sebastianus did not ask how she knew this. He looked at her for a long moment, in the darkness of the night, and then he sat up. "It is a blessing," he said.
Ulrika pulled away from him, hating to do so, and slipped out of bed. "I must go," she said, reaching for her clothes. "We cannot let the priests burn his body."
"Ulrika, it is too dangerous."
"I must do it," she said, slipping into her dress.
"Very well, but you stay here," Sebastianus said, reaching for his clothes. "This is dangerous business. There is a man in the governor's office who owes me a favor. And in case he has forgotten, he will certainly not have forgotten what gold coins are."
"You tried. You said not even your connections could help. But perhaps I—"
"It is one thing to save a condemned man, another to save his body. This is something I can do."
She said in a tight voice, "I cannot ask you to risk your life for a man you never knew."
"I do not do this for the rabbi, my love, I do it for you." He bent his head and kissed her, his lips lingering on hers while Ulrika wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his.
"Sebastianus," she said, "if you are successful, can you take Rabbi Judah to Daniel's Castle, which lies south of here?"
He frowned. "I am familiar with the ruins."
"I will let the family know. They will meet you there. Be careful, my love."
Ulrika stood outside the tent and watched him steal softly through the sleeping camp and vanish into the night. When she turned her face to the east and saw that dawn was not far off, she went back inside to fetch her own cloak, then she too left the camp.
THE TWO-STORY HOUSE in the Jewish Quarter had been built against the city's western wall and was embraced on either side by other houses. An outside stairway led to bedrooms above, while the business of daily life took place in the large, central room downstairs, furnished with chairs and a table, pedestals for lamps, tapestries on the windowless walls. Here the rabbi's widow sat in a high-backed chair as she received visitors who had come to pay respects.
"It was kind of you to come," Miriam said to Ulrika. The rabbi's widow was dressed all in black, with dark shadows under her eyes. Her sons, whom Ulrika recognized, stood at her side.
Ulrika glanced around at the others in the room, and those out in the garden, people from various walks of life, she saw, for not all were of the Jewish faith, nor were they all Babylonian. Apparently Rabbi Judah had reached many people with his sermons of peace and faith, and with his ability to cure illness and make the lame walk, simply by laying on his hands. Ulrika lowered her voice so that no one else could hear: "I came, honored mother, to tell you that your husband's body will not be put on the fire with the other executed men."
Miriam listened in astonishment to Ulrika's message about a Spaniard named Gallus, who had friends and connections, and the rescue of Judah's remains. Tears filled her eyes, and when Ulrika was done, Miriam broke down and wept. Immediately her sons drew close. Ulrika recognized the eldest, Samuel. He was a tall, lean young man with olive skin and jet-black hair that hung in ringlets on either side of his face. He wore a fringed prayer shawl and displayed the same leather phylacteries his devout father had worn. His dark features, Ulrika saw, were etched with pain and fury. Her heart went out to him. He had witnessed what no son should.
"I am all right," Miriam said in a tremulous voice, putting a hand on Samuel's arm. "This dear daughter has brought good news." To Ulrika she said, "God will prepare places for you and your husband in Heaven. The consuming fire would have robbed my husband of the resurrection."
"Resurrection?" Ulrika said.
"We will live again when the Master returns and the faithful are restored to their physical bodies, just as the Master was."
"Forgive my astonishment, honored mother, but this is an extraordinary coincidence, for this the second time I have heard of this rebirth among Jews. The o
ther was in Judea when I stayed awhile with a woman named Rachel. She was guarding her husband's grave against desecration by his enemies. His name was Jacob."
Miriam gave her a startled look. "But I used to know a Rachel and Jacob in Judea! Jacob was executed in Jerusalem by Herod Agrippa. We never knew what became of his wife."
Ulrika told her of her ordeal by the Sea of Salt, how Rachel and Almah found her and her took her back to their camp.
"Wonder of wonders!" Miriam declared. "Jacob and his brother John were the sons of Zebedee. They were part of the Twelve, and we wives followed them as they traveled with the Master during his ministry of the Good News. Yeshua worked miracles and after his death, thirty-one years ago, he passed that power to his disciples. This was how my Judah was able to help people. But he will work miracles again, when Yeshua returns to this earth, as he promised, and I will be reunited with my beloved husband in the resurrection." She frowned. "But now, like Rachel, my sons and I must protect my husband's body."
"Honored mother," Ulrika said quickly, praying that Sebastianus was having success with his contact in the governor's office, "I told you once that I am blessed with visions, as I know you are. I had a dream. Judah spoke to me. He wishes to be buried at Daniel's Castle, for that is sacred ground. Sebastianus will take him there. You must send someone to meet him. But be careful. It is very dangerous."
As Miriam rose from her chair, Ulrika added, "There is one more thing. In the dream-visitation, Rabbi Judah said, 'Tell them to remember me.'"
36
U
LRIKA PLACED HER TRAVEL packs in front of the tent and turned her eyes to the city's eastern wall and the Enlil Gate, through which heavy traffic endlessly flowed. Sebastianus had left that morning to inform the custom's agents of their departure, and to pay the tax. Now it was late afternoon. He should be here any moment. And tomorrow they would start for Rome!
Around her, in the spring sunshine, the caravan camp was bustling with industry as slaves prepared the many animals for the journey, and the treasure-filled tents were being taken down, folded, their precious contents secured in sealed boxes. Ulrika had not been able to eat her lunch—soft warm bread, sharp goat's cheese, and spicy olives soaked in vinegar and oil. She was too excited. And she was in love and ached to feel her husband's touch again.
The Divining Page 29
