Would the same happen in Babylon? Would the priests, like those long-ago bandits, succeed in frightening worshippers into abandoning Rabbi Judah?
PRIMO DREW HIS SWORD and raised it to deliver a swift death blow. But the woman rose to her feet, drew the veil back from her gray hair, and said softly, "I pray, noble sir, go in peace. I am not an enemy of Rome."
Suddenly, the Judean wilderness vanished and the years rolled back. Primo was in that small village in Galilee once again, surrounded by angry men determined to tear him apart. It was not her face he recognized, but her voice, the accent of her dialect, the very words she used.
He gasped. It was not she—not that young mother of the village long ago. But so very like her ...
Primo froze, suddenly held by two beseeching eyes, dark and liquid. A strand of hair escaped her veil and fluttered across her cheek. A memory from long ago fluttered across his mind, like that strand of hair: his mother, drawing a comb through her rich tresses, while her son Fidus watched. She was crying. Her shoulders were freshly bruised. The comb was made of wood, some of the teeth were missing. Fidus wished he could buy her an ivory comb. He wished he could kill the men who used her.
His body shook—not then, when he was nine years old, but now, in the Judean wilderness—as a truth came to him. His mother had done what she needed to survive, as this woman named Rachel was doing. His mother, uneducated, without family, giving her little boy a dog's name, not knowing, in her naïveté, the life of cruelty it would bring to him.
She had loved him in her way, and he had worshipped her in return.
Primo nearly cried out as he felt the years roll away, the aches and pains leaving his joints, making him feel robust and virile again. He left the rat-infested room he had shared with his mother and came forward to the springtime of his life, when a young woman had interceded on a stranger's behalf. And now the memory of that kind gesture—combined with a fresh new tenderness for his mother—began to melt the stone wall that guarded his heart. Because of his ugliness and how women reacted to it, Primo had always thought he could never be loved. But the sight of this soft-spoken woman, and how she reminded him of a mother's love long ago, made him realize he had been wrong.
In an instant, his whole life came into question. His military career. Perhaps it is easier to blindly follow orders than to question them. It was easier to betray a master than a Caesar. Easier to hate women than to yearn for their love.
He lowered his sword.
"We are here to rescue you, if you are Rachel, the widow of Jacob."
"Rescue!"
"A woman named Ulrika, and her husband, myself, and a few soldiers."
Rachel frowned. "Ulrika? That name is familiar. Yes, I remember. Years ago, a young woman stayed with me for a while. Her name was Ulrika."
Primo nodded. "That is the one."
Her eyes widened. "She is here?"
"We have come to take you to a safe place."
"A safe place ..."
"You have nothing to fear from me," Primo said, sheathing his sword in its scabbard, feeling his throat constrict with emotion. He held out his hand. "I swear by the sacred blood of Mithras, dear lady, that I will let no harm come to you."
They found Ulrika and Sebastianus in a nearby canyon, and the two women embraced in a tearful reunion. They took Rachel to the campfire Sebastianus's slaves had built, and gave her some water, bread, and dates, which she ate delicately despite the fact that it was obvious she was very hungry. Questions flew: "Did you reach Babylon?"
"Why did you not go with the families when they left the oasis?"
"How can you stay here now, all alone, with Almah gone?"
Finally, as shadows crept across the valley and all questions were answered, Ulrika told Rachel about her focused meditation, the answers that came to her in Shalamandar, her search for the Venerable Ones. She told her about Miriam and Judah, and the miracle at Daniel's Castle. "I believe your husband Jacob is a Venerable One, and his remains must be protected."
"How?"
"I suggest," Sebastianus interjected, "that you come to Rome with us."
"I cannot go to Rome. We must be here when the master returns. And it will be soon, for Yeshua promised he would come back in our lifetime. This is why I did not leave with the others."
Ulrika said, "Many of your faith are now in Rome. Miriam told me of a man named Simon Peter, whom she knew in Galilee, and she said he is there, as head of the congregation in Rome. We will take you to him."
Rachel's eyes grew big. "Simon is in Rome? I will think about this and pray for guidance."
PRIMO COULD NOT SLEEP.
Rolling onto his back, he looked up at the stars and saw by the position of the moon that dawn was near. He threw off his blanket and rose to his feet. The others slept on in silence—Sebastianus and Ulrika in their tent, Rachel in a tent she shared with no one, the slaves and soldiers under the stars.
Primo looked out at the cold and barren desert, and realized he had changed. He was no longer the man he had been hours earlier.
Rachel. So like that village mother of long ago ...
The oasis had several ponds. At sunset, Rachel and Ulrika had bathed in one behind protective screening. As Primo had stood guard with his back to the women, he had heard the soft whispering of water, delicate splashes, gentle trickles, and he had imagined the feminine skin and curves down which the water cascaded. In that moment Primo had understood why Sebastianus had acted the way he had all these months. He was simply a man in love.
Primo strode across the cold sand to the place where Rachel had said her husband was buried. The grave was unmarked. Ulrika had convinced Rachel that her husband's remains were no longer safe here but would be protected by the congregation in Rome.
As a chill breeze blew through his thinning hair, Primo thought about his report to Quintus Publius, which the imperial courier would deliver to Emperor Nero long before they themselves reached Rome. Nero would want to know about the witch who had cast evil spells on Sebastianus. He would be particularly interested in the treasure Primo had mentioned. Nero would most likely be anticipating the legendary secret hoard of gold supposedly spirited away from the Temple in Jerusalem before it was destroyed by Babylonians.
Caesar had become obsessed with money. When their small party had stopped at oases and caravanserais, they had heard stories of the emperor's increasing instability and irrational behavior. He trumped up charges of treason against men of wealth, had them executed so he could seize their estates.
When he reads my report, Primo thought, he will think that I am bringing fabulous treasure to him. Instead, they are the bones of an executed criminal. He will have the bones destroyed. I cannot allow that to happen. Rachel gave up her life to protect them.
Primo drew in a deep, sharp breath and felt his heart come to life. It expanded in his chest like a bird expanding its wings until his heart was normal-sized again, beating with passion, full of life and feeling. Suddenly Primo no longer saw the world in black and white but in shades and hues of all the colors of the rainbow. Because Primo, who had lived his life by a code of honor and duty, now knew that there was a higher duty than that to master and emperor—a duty to love.
ULRIKA WOKE SUDDENLY WITH a vision: a papyrus document rolled up and sealed with red wax. Primo affixing his ring to the wax.
He is the one I sensed as the betrayer in Sebastianus's midst.
Slipping into her cloak, she went into the cold pre-dawn in search of him, and found Primo sitting at the campfire, staring into black coals.
"I had a vision of you back in Antioch," she said. "I saw you betraying Sebastianus. And yet you did not."
He looked at her with the eyes of a man who had not slept. In a voice curiously soft for so rugged a man, he told Ulrika an amazing tale of oaths and emperors, spies and secret reports—and when he was done she thought for a long moment, taking in the deformed nose and scarred face, and said, "You are a man of honor, Primo, and also one of gre
at strength. You have been burdened with a moral dilemma since the day we left Rome, and you kept it to yourself. I believe now that what I saw in that vision back in Antioch was not a traitor but a man who feared he would betray his own loyalties. I misjudged you."
"And I, you," he said softly. "From the moment I first met you, I thought you were going to bring harm to my master. But I know now that you have in fact been good for him, that you helped him to tap his own strength. We should have been friends, all this time. I am sorry now that we were not."
"I, too," she said with a smile. "And now we must tell Sebastianus the truth about Nero."
Ulrika roused the slaves, ordering them to build a fire. Then she woke Sebastianus, who immediately threw on his cloak and stepped out into the biting air. Wakened by voices, Rachel looked out and, seeing her companions gathering at the fire, wrapped herself in her cloak and joined them.
"Noble Gallus," Primo began, startling Sebastianus with such formality, making him wonder what extraordinary confession they were about to hear. "I have always been loyal to you, but as a soldier I thought my first loyalty was to my emperor. I became caught between these two loyalties, and in my desperate attempt to serve both masters—that is, to satisfy Caesar and yet save you from charges of treason—I laid the blame on Ulrika and sent it in a report. I told Caesar that you are under a witch's spell."
"A witch's spell!" Sebastianus said.
"I accused Ulrika of being a witch."
She stared at him in shock. And then her blood ran cold.
In Rome, it was legal for a husband to force his wife to undergo abortion if he suspected the child was not his, or even if he did not want the child. But it was illegal for a woman to procure an abortion for any reason. And so such women sought the help of those who knew the secrets of ending conception. Midwives, wise women, female physicians, and herbalists were all suspected of being abortionists. When their deeds were found out, they were called witches and the punishment was death by stoning.
Primo looked at Ulrika and said, "I am so sorry."
"You had your reasons," she heard herself say, but she had suddenly gone numb with fear. Was that how her life was going to end? Before she was even thirty years old, tied to a post in the Great Circus, while gladiators hurled rocks at her until she was dead?
"Master, we must take a ship to Alexandria," Primo said quickly, "and find a place that is beyond the emperor's reach. I will protect all of you, upon my oath as a soldier."
But Sebastianus shook his head. "I must go to Rome to clear my name, my family's name. But you will take the women to Alexandria."
Ulrika placed her hand on Sebastianus's and said, "I will not let you face Nero alone, my love. Besides, I must clear my name as well. It is not just for my sake, but for my mother's. Wherever she is in this world, she is an honorable healer whose reputation is unblemished. If her daughter is condemned for witchcraft, and executed, it could have disastrous consequences for her."
Rachel then spoke up, saying, "And I have been in hiding long enough. It is time I joined my own kind. I will join the congregation under Simon Peter."
Finally Sebastianus said to Primo, "Then save yourself, old friend, for now you are party to treason and you have broken your oath to Caesar." But even as he said it, Sebastianus knew Primo would return to Rome with them.
As the first golden rays of dawn broke over the distant cliffs in the east, and the four at the campfire felt the promise of the day's warmth, each pondered the fate that awaited them in Rome.
BOOK NINE
ROME, 64 C.E.
40
T
HERE IT IS," Sebastianus said quietly as he scanned the vast caravan terminus. He counted twenty legionaries standing watch around his caravan—an elite cohort in shining breast-plates and red brushes on their helmets—not only guarding his tents and camels and goods from China, but on the lookout for the caravan's leader, he was certain, with orders to slap him in chains and drag him before the emperor.
Stepping back behind the protection of the blacksmith's tent, from which sounds of clanging metal rose in the morning air, he said to Ulrika, "It appears the emperor has seized the caravan as well."
As soon as they had arrived in Rome, they had gone to Sebastianus's villa and found guards surrounding it, with a sign on the main gate declaring it to be the property of the Senate and People of Rome. "We will have to assume that my friends are also being watched, in case I go to them for assistance."
Ulrika felt a wave of emotions wash over her. It had been ten years since she was last in Rome, and the sight of the city brought back a rush of girlhood memories. She thought of old friends who would be married now, with children—Julia, Lucia, Servia.
Behind those towering walls, in the warren of streets and lanes that covered Rome's hills, Ulrika had lived in a villa with her mother. There, she had learned about the Rhineland, had yearned to meet her father's people. But in that same villa, Ulrika had spoken harsh words to her mother and apologized in a letter that her mother had never read.
Did my mother return to Rome? Is she here now?
"What should we do?" she asked, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. They had yet to find Timonides.
The caravanserai south of Rome was vast and noisy, with camels bellowing and donkeys braying, dogs running about on ground covered in sludgy manure and chopped straw. The air was choked with pungent smoke from cook fires, and from the stench of animals recently sodden with sweat. The whole encampment was a hubbub of industry and care, and surrounding it were Roman soldiers in brass and scarlet, standing watch to make sure no one touched the emperor's treasure.
And then Ulrika did see a familiar face. "Timonides!" she cried.
He had been coming from the direction of the southern gate, wringing his hands, his face filled with worry. Ulrika called out, glancing at the soldiers to make sure they had not heard. The old astrologer stopped and turned. His face broadened with joy as he came toward them at a trot.
They embraced in the shadow of the blacksmith's tent, Timonides's cheeks wet with tears. "I never thought I would see you again, master," he sobbed on Sebastianus's chest. "It is so good to see you both."
"You are well, old friend?" Sebastianus said, wiping his own tears away.
"I am well, master, but I have been in hiding, waiting for your arrival. Nero is out of his mind with fury!"
"But the caravan arrived intact, did it not?"
"Yes, but too late for his taste. And he came in person to pick through everything here. Nothing pleased him."
"But there are treasures in there!"
"Not the sort Nero wants. They say he has a new passion—for gemstones! He carries an emerald and peers at the world through it. He needs money. You have heard of the terrible fire that destroyed much of the city. Rumors are that Nero himself set it so that he could clear room for new buildings. Master! You cannot go home. Soldiers are there to arrest you. I have come to the caravan terminus every day, hoping to find you before the soldiers did."
"I know, old friend."
Timonides's white eyebrows flew up. "You know about the charges of treason and witchcraft?"
Sebastianus laid a hand on the old astrologer's shoulder. "It is a long story."
Timonides turned to Ulrika. "While I have been awaiting your arrival, I have not been idle. I asked around and learned that a well-known healer-woman named Selene now lives in Ephesus, where she practices her arts."
"You found my mother?" But Ulrika was not surprised. Selene had enjoyed a sterling reputation here in Rome. Word of her whereabouts would have made its way back to where she had been so loved.
"You can write to her. I know where to send a letter."
"Oh Timonides, this is wonderful news!"
"But what of your journey to Judea?"
Sebastianus told him of finding Rachel at the oasis near the sea of salt, where he and Primo had reverently moved Jacob's remains to the small cedar chest in which Rachel had kept her clothes. F
rom there they had made their way to the coast to take a merchant ship across the Great Green, arriving at Brundisium a week ago, the first day of October. There they had purchased horses and carts and fresh supplies, and had struck out along the Via Appia, the highway that connected the main cities of Italia. Fifty miles south of Rome they parted ways with Primo and Rachel, believing that the two would be safer on their own, and Primo knew an old friend, a retired centurion he had served under, who would offer them safe haven at his hillside vineyard.
"Where are you going to take the relics?" Timonides asked.
"We had thought to a man named Simon Peter, a friend of Rachel's."
Timonides shook his head. "Your friend Rachel is not safe here. I have heard of this Simon fellow. He leads a group of Jews who are waiting for the Messiah to come. As they are a closed and fanatical group, Nero has decided to blame them for the fire that destroyed much of the city. They have all been arrested and await execution in the arena."
"How bad was the fire?" Ulrika asked.
"Terrible! It happened three months ago, on the night of July the eighteenth, starting at the southeastern end of the Circus Maximus in shops selling flammable goods. The fire spread quickly and burned for over five days. Hundreds of houses and shops were reduced to cinders. Nero began rebuilding at once, but they are extravagant projects. He is building a splendid new residence for himself called the Golden House—a project certain to bankrupt the Treasury, as you might imagine by its name. Did you know that Nero has proclaimed himself a god? He is insisting that he be worshipped alongside Jupiter and Apollo. Come with me, master. I will take you and Ulrika to a safe place."
The Divining Page 34
