The Kingdom and the Crown

by Gerald N. Lund

  They were all peering, and suddenly Miriam gasped. She could see dozens of wagons, small specks against the darker hillsides. “Is that the Romans?”

  Simeon nodded but still spoke to Ezra. “They’re still more than an hour away from the pass. If you see them turn and start coming back this way, leave immediately. Head for Sepphoris. I showed you that road a few miles back.”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  David swung down from his horse and went over to the carriage. Deborah got out and went swiftly to him. “Oh, David, be careful.”

  He held her tightly for a moment, then kissed her softly on the lips. “We will, my Deborah. Pray for us.”

  “Every moment until you return,” she answered huskily.

  “And Ezra and Livia and I as well,” Miriam cried.

  Simeon dismounted and moved to the carriage. “Again, Miriam of Jerusalem, we express our deepest gratitude for you and Livia, and for your courage. When this is all over, I would like to speak with you more about Jesus.”

  “I don’t know when,” Miriam said, “but Livia and I are going to come back to Capernaum as soon as we can so we can hear him for ourselves.”

  “Then,” he said with a nod, “we shall see you then.”

  He turned to his mother and gently took her in his arms. “It will be all right, Mother. We think we have worked out a way to see this through.”

  “I couldn’t bear to lose you, Simeon. Especially now.”

  “You’re not going to lose me,” he said. “But we both know that this has to happen.”

  She bit her lip but nodded. “I know.”

  He kissed her on the cheek. “I love you, Mother.”

  “And I you,” she whispered fiercely. “Go with God, Simeon.”

  “If God will have me,” he said wistfully, “that would be my deepest wish.”

  Chapter 30

  Iacta alea est. [The die is cast.]

  —Julius Caesar, Divus Julius, xxxii; spoken at the crossing of the Rubicon

  I

  9 June, a.d. 30

  Daniel leaped to his feet and gave a low cry. “It’s Simeon!”

  Yehuda spun around.

  “I told you he would come!” In spite of their strict orders to stay concealed, Daniel left his place of hiding and ran through the trees like a deer.

  “Shalom, Daniel,” Simeon said, gripping his hand as he slid to a halt.

  “I told them you would come. I told them not to give up.”

  Simeon turned as Yehuda came up as well. “Hello, Old Friend.”

  Yehuda nodded gravely, then reached out his hand and clasped Simeon’s arm tightly. “Shalom, Simeon. Welcome back.”

  Simeon started to say something, but suddenly his throat choked off and he could only nod.

  Yehuda turned in surprise as a second figure appeared, and he saw it was David. He stared for a moment, then gave Simeon a questioning look.

  “Many things have happened,” Simeon said quickly. “You were right. Ya’abin has a game of his own. We have just learned of it. Where is Gehazi? We have to speak with him right away.”

  “He took up the first position just to the east of us,” Yehuda replied. “I’m surprised you didn’t see him when you came through.”

  “We saw evidence of many, but they let us pass without challenge when they saw it was us.”

  A noise behind them brought them around. A man was coming toward them. Simeon stiffened as he saw who it was.

  “Well, well,” Moshe Ya’abin sneered, “so the mighty Javelin finally found his courage.”

  “If you think it was lack of courage that delayed Ha’keedohn,” Daniel retorted hotly, “you are not only a fool but a craven coward as well, for you besmirch the name of a man who knows no fear.”

  “Mind your tongue, young pup,” Ya’abin snarled, “or I shall have to cut it out.”

  Yehuda straightened to his full height and leaned forward. “Would you like to settle our differences now, before the Romans come?”

  The ferret-faced thief only laughed. “You speak empty words, big one. You know that Gehazi would cut out both our hearts if we started something now. When all of this is done, there will be time enough to settle old scores.” He looked at Simeon. “All of them.”

  “There are many scores to be settled this day,” Simeon agreed easily. Then he turned his back on Ya’abin. “Tell me where to find Gehazi,” he said to Yehuda. “The Romans even now are approaching the pass. I must speak with him.”

  “I’ll show you where he is,” Ya’abin said, stepping forward.

  Simeon whirled on him. “If Gehazi wants someone to leave his position,” he said coldly, “then Gehazi will give you that order directly. I can find him without your help.” He swung back around to Yehuda.

  “There’s a large outcropping of rocks three or four hundred paces from here,” Yehuda said. “His men are there. They’ll take you to him.”

  Muttering to himself, Ya’abin spun around and stalked away. Glancing over his shoulder, Simeon frowned. “Watch him closely, Yehuda. The man is a viper.”

  “We will,” Yehuda said. “We already have one of our men close by their position.”

  “We have to go,” Simeon said. “I will return as quickly as possible, but I wanted you to know I was here.”

  “I never doubted it,” Daniel said, shooting his brother an accusatory look.

  “This is where you belong,” Yehuda murmured. “We will pass the word. The men—and not just our band—will be happy to know that.”

  II

  Gehazi listened intently; the only sign that what he was hearing was being processed was in the darkening of his eyes and the lowering of his brow.

  “Where did you learn all of this?” he demanded when Simeon finished speaking.

  “From a source with which I would trust my life,” David answered. “Beyond that, we cannot say. You surely understand that. If the Romans learn about this, they will hunt that person down without mercy.”

  “And what if this itself is a trap?” he shot right back. One hand came up to rub his beard, showing the tips of two fingers missing. It was a sharp reminder of who it was that stood before them. Gehazi was as old as David, perhaps even older. He had been one of the young warriors of Judah of Gamla, Deborah’s uncle, the man who had started the entire Zealot movement. Thirty years ago, Gehazi had been quick enough and brave enough to escape the Roman snare when so many others had been caught. Since then, his life had been dedicated to continuing the cause Judah had begun. He had performed so many feats of courage that he was now the acknowledged leader of the Zealot movement and the only one capable of uniting the various bands under one head. The two fingertips were a gift taken by a Roman centurion who had caught Gehazi one night and tried to make him reveal where the rest of his band was hidden. If one looked closely into his beard, one could see a jagged scar across his jaw he received when, two days later, he killed that same centurion and made his escape.

  “Make no mistake,” Simeon jumped in, “there is a trap, but it is not of our informant’s making. Those two Roman maniples on our flanks will begin moving into position as soon as it gets dark. While you are blithely taking control of the wagons, they are going to swoop in like a hawk on an unsuspecting mouse.”

  “I already have sentries posted in all directions.”

  “And you think they’ll stop a full maniple?” Simeon cried. “Come on, man. Think! There’s going to be a disaster here tonight.”

  Gehazi’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and David reached out and took Simeon by the shoulder. He pulled him back and stepped into his place. “There’s a way to know if this is true,” he said.

  Gehazi pulled his glare away from Simeon and looked at David. “I’m listening.”

  “The Roman column is no more than a mile or so away from the entrance of the pass. If they keep coming, they will be to your position just as darkness closes in.”

  “The perfect time for us. The moon rises early tonight.”
/>   “Yes,” Simeon shot back. “The perfect time. Perhaps too perfect.”

  David went on quickly. “If our information is correct, the other maniples are hiding about two hours from here. They will start moving into position as soon as it’s dark. By midnight they will be close enough to spring the trap, but until then they won’t be close enough to help.”

  “By midnight we’ll have those wagons rolling, and there won’t be anyone left for the Romans to find.”

  “That’s just it,” David exclaimed. “That’s why the commander of the column has to delay entering the pass. There’s going to be an ‘accident’ of some kind, something that will look natural but will stop them in place for several hours. By midnight you will still be waiting for them to reach your position.” He didn’t have to go on from there.

  Gehazi took that in.

  “Knowing that, you could hit them wherever they stop. However, they’ll see you coming, and you’ll lose the element of surprise. They’ll have time to form a defense, and as you know, the Romans fight best when they have room to maneuver.”

  “You’ll still be trying to get control of the wagons by the time midnight comes,” Simeon said quietly. He realized that his father’s approach was right. Calm. Rational. Show Gehazi how limited his options were.

  Gehazi leaned back, his dark eyes moving back and forth between the two of them. “Even if you are right, I am not simply going to turn and run, not when there are forty wagons filled with armaments out there that we desperately need.”

  “What if we can get you what you want without a bloodbath?” Simeon said, calm again now. “It won’t be all that you want, but it will be more than you’ll get if the Romans do as they intend.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?”

  Simeon told him. He spoke slowly and simply. Gehazi alternately frowned, grunted, spluttered angrily, and finally nodded. He didn’t like it, but he saw it clearly. Finally, when Simeon finished, he didn’t speak for some time.

  David waited for a few moments, then spoke in a low voice. “Save your men to live for a day when you can choose the field.”

  “All right,” he said after another long pause. “Supposing I accept your proposal. Just how do you make it work?”

  David sighed. “With your approval, my son and I are going to pay a visit to the Romans.”

  III

  Tribune Marcus Quadratus pulled in his horse and stood up in the stirrups, feeling the stiffness clear down to his toes. With the exception of one day’s rest in Damascus, this was his seventh day in the saddle. He longed now for the time when he would be back in Caesarea. He already had it all planned out. He would spend his first full day at the baths, alternating between the pleasantly cool pools in the tepidarium, the shockingly cold waters of the frigidarium, and the scalding temperatures of the calderium. The steam would open his pores and cleanse his body of the accumulated sweat, grime, and impurities. He would end the day by having one of the well-trained slaves rub his body down with oil, massaging it in until he was totally rejuvenated.

  He settled into the saddle again as a wagon rattled by him, bringing him back to the present. He was a little surprised that he had let himself get so carried away in his thoughts. He looked around. “Rubrius?”

  Up ahead a figure turned and came trotting back to him. “Yes, sire?”

  “Isn’t that the pass just ahead?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “Isn’t it about time then?”

  Sextus Rubrius turned again, squinting into the sun, which hung above the hills to the west of them. “Can you see that low ridge of rock up ahead about two hundred paces?”

  Marcus leaned forward, shading his eyes. A spine of rock covered with a few scraggly bushes ran across the line of their approach. He could see where the road had been cut through it. “Yes.”

  “We thought that might be the best place. The road is narrow, and one wagon will block it. The surrounding ground is too rough to take wagons around it.”

  “Good. Don’t use the first wagon. That looks too convenient.”

  “No, sire,” Rubrius said without expression. “We thought the third one might be best.”

  Marcus finally smiled. “I’m tired, Sextus. I should know better than to doubt you.”

  “Thank you, sire.”

  “You can feel their eyes on us, can’t you?”

  “Oh, yes,” the centurion answered grimly. “For most of the day now.”

  “Then make it look good.”

  “Yes, sire.” Sextus saluted, then trotted back to the front of the line.

  Marcus watched as he took up position on the left side of the third wagon. To their left the plains stretched out until they disappeared in the haze. It would be difficult to have someone watch them from that direction. On their right, though, there were patches of trees and brush that marked the first beginnings of the foothills. That would be where the watchers were. That’s why Rubrius had chosen the opposite side of the wagon.

  Marcus spurred his horse forward to get closer. He wanted to watch how it was done. Rubrius was as wily as an old she bear. There would be no slipups with that man.

  The four quarternions went through the cut, followed by the first wagon and then the second. Now Marcus saw the wooden mallet in the hand of his centurion. He was peering at the wagon wheel. Half an hour earlier he had sawn the rim of the wheel partway through and marked it with a daub of whitewash. Where the road passed through the cut, the soft dust became rocky for about twenty or thirty feet. As the wagon reached that spot and began to rattle and shake on the harder road base, Sextus swung the hammer hard, smacking the wheel directly on the spot he had marked. There was a sharp crack, and spokes and pieces of rim went flying. The wagon lurched forward, then jerked sharply to the left as the axle dropped and dug into the roadway. The driver, totally unaware of what had been planned for him, screamed as he was thrown off the seat and onto the back of the nearest horse. He bounced off and scrambled to get clear of the flashing hooves.

  Marcus grinned. “Perfect,” he said under his breath. “Absolutely perfect.”

  IV

  Ten minutes later Marcus turned his head and bawled out as loudly as he could. “Where is that wheel?”

  A man appeared, carrying a small wheel. It was obviously not a match for the one that had collapsed. “Sire,” he cried, “we thought we had another wheel to match. But this is the only one we have left.”

  “What?” Marcus began to curse, swinging his riding whip at the air.

  “We’ll have to repair the other one, sire. It will take several hours.”

  “Idiots!” he screamed. “Centurion!”

  Sextus leaped forward. “Sire?”

  “Find out who’s responsible for this mistake and have him flogged.”

  “Yes, sire.” Then Sextus dropped his voice. “Did you see him, sire?”

  Marcus had to catch himself from turning around. “No. Where?”

  “In those trees to the right. Close enough to hear. He’s just slipping away now.”

  “Off to report?”

  “That’s my assumption, sire.”

  “Perfect,” he said again. Then with a smile, “Don’t drive the men too hard. I want to be here for at least four more hours.”

  Sextus grinned too. “Yes, sire. I think I can arrange that.”

  V

  “Sire?”

  Marcus looked up. He was seated in the shade of the fourth wagon, and his eyes had drooped shut. He was alert instantly. It was one of the noncommissioned officers, a squad leader. Marcus got to his feet quickly.

  “There are two riders coming in, sire.”

  Marcus grabbed for his helmet. “Are the men on alert?”

  “Yes, sire. We have two full squads deployed. The riders don’t seem to be armed.”

  Marcus strode forward and was pleased to see that Sextus and the other two centurions were already out ahead of the lead wagon. Off some distance, coming directly down the road toward them
, two men on horseback were coming at a steady lope.

  “Deploy the archers,” Marcus barked. “And I want spearmen around the front wagons.”

  The officers sprang to obey, and men raced into position.

  Still the riders came on, as if they had the road all to themselves.

  “No one fires until I give the signal,” Marcus warned.

  “Hold until the tribune gives the command,” Sextus bawled at the bowmen who had scrambled up behind the rocky spine on both sides of the road. Then, suddenly, he gave a low exclamation of surprise. He leaned forward, raising a hand to shade his eyes. Then he slowly turned.

  “What is it?” Marcus asked, seeing the expression on his centurion’s face.

  “I think it’s David ben Joseph and his son Simeon, sire.”

  At first that meant nothing to Marcus; then he went rigid. “Of Capernaum?”

  “The same, sire.”

  VI

  Marcus paced back and forth, the fury in him raging so hot he could barely speak.

  Simeon watched in faint amusement. “By the way,” he said sarcastically, “the breakdown was masterful. The man who watched it was totally convinced it was an accident.”

  Marcus stopped, his jaw working. There was no question. This was not a bluff. These two knew everything, even down to the planned delay at this point.

  “Who dares to betray Rome in this manner?”

  Simeon hooted derisively. “I could personally name hundreds who would jump at the chance,” he retorted. “If Rome were nearly as frightening as Rome thinks it is, it would make your task a great deal easier.”

  “Simeon.”

  He turned at his father’s soft warning. The very sight of the Roman who had dragged his mother and sister off in bonds had left Simeon almost shaking. His determination to put all of that terrible day behind him as Jesus demanded was nearly forgotten now. He got hold of himself and moved back a step. “Sorry, Father.”

  David stepped forward. They were speaking in Aramaic so that only Sextus and Marcus could understand what was being said. “Mordechai of Jerusalem and your governor have together hatched a brilliant plan,” he said. “If it had worked, the Zealots as we know them would have ceased to exist. Unfortunately, all of that brilliance is now undone, and you find yourself in a very precarious position. The question now is how to minimize the loss and prevent a massacre.”