“Shalom aleikhem, barukh haba. Hello and welcome. Meayin ata? From where have you come?”
“Galilee,” the man replied.
“May I walk with you for a while?”
“Yes, you may. I am bound for the storehouse of Septimus Salvo.”
“That is my employer. I shall accompany you.” Viktor took the lead bridle to give the tired man a respite. “I trust you have had a safe journey and encountered few troubles along your way.”
“The roads were quiet, the skies were fair, and the beasts were obedient. All and all a rather agreeable passage.”
“Very well then.”
A roar of voices echoed through the streets from the amphitheater. The merchant turned his eyes toward the sound and was about to say something, but looking back at his young well-dressed companion, he decided to hold his tongue.
“You say you come from the Galilee,” Viktor said. “May I ask you a few questions?”
The man eyed Viktor suspiciously. “What is it you want to know?”
“I am searching for a man…a rabbi named Yeshua from the village of Nazareth. Have you heard of him?”
Once again, the man looked Viktor up and down. “Why do you want to know? Are you a Roman?”
“I am a Jew,” Viktor replied. “I dress like this because my employer requires me to do so. It is not my intention to cause you any difficulty. Please tell me, do you know anything of this rabbi Yeshua?”
“Yes, I know him.”
As they approached Septimus’s warehouse, Viktor opened the gates to the enclosed courtyard and led the donkeys to the well. “You can water your animals here,” he said. “I will get some men to unload your goods and then we shall talk.”
After the donkeys had been unloaded and watered, the jugs of oil counted and sampled, and the merchant paid, Viktor returned with a platter of bread, goat cheese, wine, and figs from the market. In the welcome shade of a leafy grape arbor, the two men reclined and dined.
“Now please tell me,” Viktor said. “What do you know of Yeshua of Nazareth?”
After being treated fairly and kindly by the stranger, the Galilean felt comfortable enough to talk. In a Roman city full of pagans and foreigners, a Jew had to be careful. But the young man seemed earnest…alien, but earnest...and he claimed to be a Jew.
“First of all, please thank your employer Septimus Salvo for his generous terms,” he began. “And thank him for obtaining the papyrus. It has become difficult to obtain, these days. He is a good Roman. May his house be blessed. Now…about Yeshua of Nazareth. I live in Capernaum on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. Over the past year, I have heard the rabbi speak many times. I have heard him teach in the synagogue and out in the countryside. He is a remarkable man. I find much wisdom in what he says. Yet some things seem to fly in the face of the Law. Some things might even be considered…well…blasphemous. I have heard many people say so. Me…I am not so sure. Yet I have no doubt he is a righteous man. Maybe even one of the great prophets returned. Some people believe this is so. Me…I am not so sure. Yet I have seen things with my own two eyes that are hard to believe. Things the priests do not care to acknowledge. Things…” The trader hesitated, seemed unwilling to continue.
“Like what?” Viktor pressed.
“I have seen him heal the sick…the lame. I have heard of him giving sight to the blind…driving demons out of the afflicted. He feeds the hungry. One time, my wife and I went to hear him speak outside Magdala. It was a large crowd. There were hundreds of us assembled on that hillside. We were all so excited to hear him, few thought to bring provisions. And the rabbi fed us. He fed every one of us. I do not know where all that food came from. He and his followers are not wealthy men. And we were far from town. I don’t know. I just remember hearing the rabbi say a blessing over a stack of empty baskets. And then…it just seemed to…well, I really do not know. My wife Davida says it was a miracle. I tell you, I am not a fool. I do not speak of foolish things. And I tell you I have seen these things with my own two eyes. He is not an ordinary man. And he has gained a loyal following…my wife Davida included. Lately she speaks of little else. It is, Yeshua says this and Yeshua says that. Yeshua does this. Yeshua would not do that. HaRosh Mistovev! It makes my head spin. It is like having a second mother-in-law. But please do not get me wrong. I am just making a little jest. The rabbi is a good man. A learned man. Especially for someone his age. Many people listen to his words. Many follow his teachings. Unfortunately, many of these people are sinners of the worst kind. The rabbi says that those are the ones who need him the most. I guess that makes sense. I do not know. He is surely different from the priests. That is all I can tell you.”
“Has the rabbi ever spoken of traveling to Jerusalem to preach?”
“I have never heard him speak about himself or about his plans. He speaks only about what he calls the ‘Kingdom of God.’ Now, it is getting late and I must be moving along. My wife and children await me in Capernaum and I want to be home for the Shabbat. Thank you for your kind hospitality. And please thank Septimus Salvo for the gift of the papyrus. He is a good man. Tell him I shall return some time after the Feast of Passover, if it be the will of the Almighty.”
Viktor sat on the low wall that enclosed the courtyard and watched as the trader loaded his donkeys, wrestling with the bulky rolls of Egyptian papyrus, surely destined for scribes throughout the Galilee. As he led his pack train through the gate, the trader paused and turned to the strange Jewish Roman boy.
“If you want to hear the rabbi speak, I think it would be wise to do so soon. I have heard some talk, and I fear for him. His words rub some people the wrong way…powerful people. And with things as they are these days…well…I fear for him. Many thanks to Septimus Salvo. And peace be with you, my young friend. Shalom.”
CHAPTER 29
Ancient Palestine (circa 30 CE)
“What are you doing?”
Kneeling beside his sleeping pallet, Viktor looked up from his task. The little girl stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, an indignant look on her face.
“You go on back to sleep Anthea,” he told her. “This is not your concern. Go on now.”
“You are packing your things. You are going away. Why are you going away?”
“Keep your voice down. You will wake everyone.”
“I knew you would not stay. You are just like my pateras. You are going away and you will never return. Just like him. I knew this would happen. I knew it.”
“Quiet down. Come over here by me.” Viktor patted the bed where his meager belongings were laid out. “I am just going on a short journey. I will return in a few days.”
“That is what my pateras said, too. I will return in two days he said. And he never came back. He left us all alone. We had nothing to eat. We had nowhere to live. Then those beastly men came and took us all away. They beat us. They hurt mother. You men are all the same. You will not be back, I know it.” Tears coursed down the little girl’s cheeks, her chest heaving as she spoke. “Go away. I do not care. I do not need you. Go,” she sobbed. “The zealots will kill you. And the Jews will eat you. That is what Dionysus said would happen to me if I wandered off. They will get you. They will boil you in a big pot and eat you. Let them. I do not care about you. I do not need you. I do not need anybody.”
Viktor reached out to the girl. She struggled briefly before collapsing into his arms, weeping pitifully against his shoulder. “Ssshh, do not cry, my little one. I will be back. I promise. I will not leave you alone. I will be back before you know it. No one is going to eat me. Who would want to eat this carcass? I am stringy and tough, like an old donkey.”
Anthea didn’t laugh. She pushed herself away, looked angrily into his eyes. “What about Father Septimus? What about him? Are you going away without telling him? He will miss you so much. Do you not care about him?”
“Of course I do, my little koukla.”
“What about Cenon? What about Farris? What are we going to do without y
ou?”
“You will be fine. Father Septimus will take care of you just like he did before he brought me home. And I am counting on you to keep an eye on your little brothers. You have to protect them while I am gone.”
“How can I protect them? I am just a girl.”
“Just a girl, you say? I saw you stand up to a whole band of bloodthirsty Sicarii.”
“That was different. I was angry. I thought they were going to hurt you and the boys.”
“They might have, if not for you. You saved us all.”
“Did I?”
“You sure did. You were so brave.”
“No, I was not brave. I was frightened. I did not even think about what I was doing. I just knew I had to do something.”
“That is correct. You did what you knew was right. You did what you had to do. That is what bravery is.”
A serene maturity seemed to settle over the little girl’s face, a spark of wisdom gleamed in her eyes. “Yes…I did what I had to do.”
“I truly believe you saved my life that day, little sister. I owe you so much. Someday you will grow to be a strong, powerful woman. I want to be there to see it. But now there is something I have to do. There is a man I need to find.”
“Is it your pateras? Are you looking for your pateras?”
“No, koukla, my father is gone. I will never see him again.”
“What about your mitera?”
“My mother is gone…my sister, too.”
“Poor Viktor.”
“Anthea, you are my little sister now. I will never lie to you. After I do what I have to do, I will return. I promise you. And then we will be together forever and ever. Please believe me.”
Viktor reached out and took the little girl into his arms, holding her tight. She buried her face in his chest…and believed.
CHAPTER 30
Present-Day Israel
Dr. Robert Jankowski was not an easy sell. How could he be? The idea was absolutely preposterous. Over the years, he had listened to plenty of hairbrained theories espoused by plenty of highly intelligent academicians. It happened more often than he cared to admit. If they were friends or colleagues, he would humor them. Then ever so gently try to steer them away from whatever fallacious, self-absorbed conceit they happened to be pursuing. Sometimes it worked. And sometimes, brilliant scholars wasted a promising career espousing the indefensible. If Robert didn’t personally know the source, he would just ignore the solicitation, hoping they would take the hint and go away before his good name became entangled in their delusions. And that’s the path he took with the Team from the Technion-Israel Institute of Haifa. He simply ignored their e-mails, blocked their telephone calls, and refused their appointments.
But the Team was persistent. They stopped by his office unannounced. They cornered him in the library, the cafeteria, the lecture hall, popping up like paparazzi at a Hollywood gala, disconcertingly pressing the boundary between determination and outright harassment. Finally, against his better judgment, Robert agreed to hear what they had to say, surrendering a single hour of his busy day to meet with one of the principal scientists. And by scheduling the meeting immediately prior to his lecture on Phoenician burial practices, he provided himself with a legitimate excuse to extricate himself from what promised to be a very peculiar encounter. He didn’t believe their claims and he couldn’t understand what any of it had to with him. But he had to admit, he was definitely intrigued.
The following afternoon, a young woman named Allison Hollister paid Robert a visit. If the Team’s aim was to impress him, they succeeded. A visit by a Nobel Prize winning physicist bestowed immediate and unqualified credibility upon the whole matter. Modest and self-effacing, her unpretentious appearance and easygoing California manner won him over before she even began her presentation. Within minutes, he was captivated, his mind wandering, wondering how someone so young and beautiful could be so brilliant. Speaking on behalf of the Team, she did most of the talking and he did most of the listening. And the meeting stretched late into the afternoon. As he bid her good-bye, Professor Robert Jankowski realized that he had entirely forgotten his lecture. It was the first time in his career that he had neglected his academic responsibilities. He should have been mortified. Yet somehow, it just didn’t seem quite so important anymore.
Even though Robert didn’t fully understand the science, he could follow the logic. And by suspending disbelief, he could accept the possibility of the Team’s claims. Their claims were far-fetched, for sure. Yet based on who had conducted the research, he felt compelled to defer to their irrefutable collective scientific authority. Allison Hollister had name-dropped a cast of celebrated contemporary scientists like some fast-talking publicist. It seemed like every scientist that mattered had contributed to the Project on some level. It was a genius “dream team.” And if that team had achieved what they claimed they had achieved, mankind was about to be turned on its head. Everything would change. His whole field of study would be rendered obsolete, his life’s work reduced to so much digging in the dirt. He asked her why he had been selected to join the research team since he knew so little about physics.
“We need an undisputed authority on Middle East antiquities,” she told him. “We need an archeologist with unrestricted access to Middle Eastern historical sites. We need a scholar with unquestioned discretion. And you have impeccable references.”
“Who might that be?” he asked.
Allison Hollister flashed a bright, mischievous grin. “Come meet the Project Team and all your questions will be answered…within reason, that is.”
Three days later at the Technion-Israel Institute of Technology, Robert met with the principals of the research group. The organization had no official name, no official status. They played it extremely low-key. Inside their secure compound at the far end of the engineering campus, they simply referred to themselves as “the Team.” The Team was the people who worked on “the Project” that had constructed “the Device.” It all sounded so ordinary. It was anything but ordinary.
The Team wasted no time in blowing Dr. Robert Jankowski’s mind, declaring from the onset that they had already constructed a device that could send matter into the future. When his jaw hit the floor, they set the hook, and proceeded to reel him in. He was helplessly spellbound, awed by the boundless potential of their invention. It appealed to the child as much as the scientist in him. It was no longer just theoretical physics and science-fiction fantasy. It was reality.
After treating him to a miserable lunch in the university cafeteria, the principals of the Team convened in a crowded conference room and revealed the current state of their research. They explained how they had isolated a rare Higgs-boson type particle, generated during experiments at the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva. And how they were able to stabilize and sustain this most transient building block of matter in the magnetic field of a high-energy plasma stream, creating what amounted to a submicroscopic black hole on a leash. Then by feeding it massive amounts of energy until it produced a field of gravitational time dilation, they had harnessed its enormous density to distort the very fabric of space-time, allowing matter subjected to this field to actually bypass periods of time. By varying the intensity and the duration of the plasma blast, they had even managed to develop a rudimentary method of controlling the length of the “Jump,” as they called it. It was time travel, plain and simple.
Their experiments were astounding. Robert listened with growing excitement, any doubts that he had been harboring evaporating like morning dew on the Negev. The Team had begun their experiments by sending a radium specimen into the future at various intervals. Then by comparing the well-established atomic decay rate of the radioactive particle, they were able to determine how much the specimen had “aged” during the interval. And even though the specimen had been gone for various lengths of time, the data showed that it had not aged at all, beyond what was accounted for in lab procedures. Robert watched the videos, recorded through a por
thole set into the side of the Device. As the power was cranked up, the specimen had simply disappeared, accompanied by a peculiar high-frequency ripping sound. The specimen then reappeared one hour, one day, or one month later, in the same position and in the same condition as it had been prior to the Jump. And though time had passed in the laboratory, based on its atomic decay rate, the specimen had not aged at all. The specimen had evidently “jumped” through the predetermined time period and materialized in the exact same state when the time continuum in the laboratory caught up with it. The experiments were exhaustively repeated, meticulously validated, and systematically refined.
When the Team was satisfied with the results, they proceeded to send simple organisms, then plants, and finally animals. The findings showed no negative effects on the subjects. No effect on the physiology, no effect on the DNA. And with animal subjects, including a dachshund named Sally, there was no discernable effect on the psyche, either. The Team had conclusively proven that they could send living things into the future. The past, however, proved to be an entirely different matter, both technically and philosophically.
CHAPTER 31
Ancient Palestine (circa 30 CE)
Dear Father,
These past few weeks, I have thought deeply about my life here with you. I have come to realize that I have been so very wrong. We are of different blood and background, but I know you love me like a son. I came to truly understand this when I finally acknowledged my own love for you as my father. I have always chafed under the notion that I am owned by another man. But I now realize that those are just empty words. It does not describe the reality or the depth of our relationship. As you told me so many times, you paid for my freedom, not for my soul. At first I refused to believe it. It was easier to be resentful than to confront my own bias. I admit now that I have been a fool.
I am a Jew. I have also chafed at the fact that my homeland is occupied and abused by a foreign power. But now I realize that you being a citizen of Rome does not make you guilty of the empire’s crimes. Everything you do proves to me that you are a good and fair and just man. I am proud to be your son.
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