You have often spoken of returning to Rome and taking all of us with you. If that be your wish, I willingly and cheerfully look forward to that day. Even though Judea is my homeland, my home will always be with you. I look forward to taking care of you when the years become too great a burden for you to bear. When you need someone, I will be there beside you. I will be your legs and your eyes. I will give you comfort and peace. I look forward to protecting you as you have protected me. I know that all your children feel the same way. You are our father and we love you. Always be secure in that fact.
Right now, I need to go away. I need to seek out a certain individual. It is very important to me. You might say that it is my destiny. I know my leaving will hurt you. That is not my intention. Please understand that this is something I must do. When I have completed my task I will come home to you. I am not seeking my blood family. They are gone. They exist only in my memories. What I seek is not of material consequence. Someday I will explain all of this to your complete satisfaction.
If all goes well, I shall return some time after the Jewish Passover. If not, keep a light burning in the window for me. Rest assured that I will return. In the meantime, Dionysus should be able to handle the shipping. I have reviewed the current contracts and the schedules with him. The workers at the warehouse and the orchards know what needs to be done. They are good people and can be trusted. Do not allow the children to engage in any negotiations. You have coddled them and they have no heart for bargaining, except of course for Anthea. Unfortunately, her being a girl precludes her from participation with many of your associates. Keep a sharp eye on the ships from Macedonia. They have been putting rocks in the grain sacks and water in the amphorae. I have sent word to your regent in Thessalonica, so I expect no further difficulties.
And finally, please send for Rabbi Menahem if you are feeling poorly. I have discussed your infirmities with him and have the highest confidence in his abilities. I cannot stress this more emphatically. I guess I do not need to tell you how I feel about your physician.
So, my dear father, I leave tonight. Do not waste your energies trying to find me. I will do what I have to do and be home as soon as is possible. Until then, take heart, for God blesses the righteous. And may God bless you.
Your loving son,
Viktor
CHAPTER 32
Present-Day Israel
The Team found that time travel into the past was much harder to prove. In fact it proved impossible. Everything they sent into the past just ceased to exist, regardless of the planned temporal distance. Because, after all, it was the past. The physicists devised ingenious experiments to substantiate the success of the Jumps, but it was all to no avail. The specimen was there, and then it was gone. Gone to some time before. Or maybe just gone. The present would eventually catch up to something sent into the future. But something sent into the past was lost forever. No one was quite sure why. Theorists postulated that a temporal paradox was interfering with the disposition of the subject, and most of the physicists fell into two major camps. The existence of alternate dimensions had the most proponents. The chronology protection theory ran a close second. There were many other theories, many discussions, and many heated arguments. But it didn’t change the simple fact that anything sent into the past was just gone. It was a major setback, taking the Project’s incredible progress right back to the conceptual phase. After so much work, after so much time and expense, it seemed they had reached a dead end. The physicists were stymied. And the Israeli government was furious.
Always suspicious of the Team’s motives, the government agencies that backed the Project now openly questioned the scientists’ allegiance. Allegations of conspiracy, accusations of tampering with classified information, even charges of sabotage were leveled against Team members. The military brought its considerable influence to bear. After all, travel into the past was what they were after. Many of the sponsors, including high-ranking officials in the Mossad, had big plans for the project. They saw it as a mechanism for righting the many wrongs perpetuated against the Jewish people throughout history. Their plans included the overthrow of bygone hostile regimes, and the elimination of genocidal anti-Semitic despots like Nero, Hitler, and the Russian tsars. They considered going back in time to thwart every single act of terrorism committed against the State of Israel. They had even organized an elite commando unit, specially trained for the operation. Highly educated men and women who weren’t afraid to journey into the unknown. Soldiers who were ready and willing to sacrifice their own future to ensure the survival of Judaism. They were dead serious. And now, after so much success, with the payoff so close at hand, the scientists were reneging on their promises.
Philosophical conflict between the Team and elements of the government had been simmering for years. Scientists had argued vehemently against effecting any revision to the past, painstakingly citing the theories of causation and temporal paradox. Warning them of the possibly catastrophic consequences of tinkering with history. But the Mossad only scoffed at the dire predictions. They were tired of the endless discussion. Soon, they hoped to possess the ability to change the very course of history, and some milquetoast eggheads weren’t about to change their minds. So to placate the scientists, they backed off and proceeded with their plans in secrecy. When their intentions were finally exposed, several prominent physicists resigned in protest, refusing to participate in a program that would ultimately be exploited as a weapon of war. A weapon with staggering potential for global harm, far worse than any nuclear, chemical, or biological armament. The Team unanimously supported the dissenters’ position. Yet most were unwilling to abandon their incredible discovery, maybe the greatest discovery in the history of mankind. So the research continued. The Project, by that time, had acquired a life of its own.
Differences between the radically polarized groups remained unreconciled for years, each hoping the other side would eventually see the light. So when the success of experiments into the past went unproven, the stage was already set. Conflict was inevitable and bitter. The Mossad blamed the Team for deliberately engineering the failure, accusing them of outright treason. Team leaders, charged with conspiracy, were arrested and jailed. Only a united front by the entire research group, threatening to go public with the government’s scheme, eased the passions and cooled the rhetoric. The incarcerated scientists were immediately released and the Team went back to work under a government-imposed gag order. Lights burned late into the night throughout the compound as the Team worked to solve the intriguing temporal conundrum. Though a solution still eluded them, they felt they had won a victory of sorts. The government was finally off their backs. Or so they thought.
But the military was not so easily thwarted. Within weeks, all funding for the Project was withdrawn, all contracts were cancelled, and the university was officially censured. Always optimistic, the Team set about shutting down the research in a manner that ensured the efficient resumption of their work when funding was restored. But the Israeli government had other plans. Declaring the Project to be a threat to national security, the Mossad stormed the compound before any protest could be organized. Confiscating all documentation and clumsily dismantling the Device, the hurried and unsophisticated methods employed by the mob of untrained agents produced devastating results. Hardware was destroyed, software corrupted, the wealth of precious data hopelessly scrambled, and the Device itself rendered unsalvageable. With the Project officially terminated, the fragmented remnants of mankind’s greatest discovery were ignominiously relegated to a nondescript government warehouse on a remote airbase deep in the Negev desert.
CHAPTER 33
Ancient Palestine (circa 30 CE)
The night was chilly with a stiff breeze blowing straight off the dark waters of the Mediterranean. The embers of the firepit glowed hotly with each gust, the dancing flames illuminating the disheveled forms that huddled close for warmth. Outside the crumbling stone wall that enclosed the wellspring, a shepherd
calmed his flock under the shuddering boughs of an ancient cedar. Beyond the reach of the fire, perched atop a volcanic outcropping, an elderly man addressed a silent group who sat on the ground before him. Speaking in hushed tones, he repeatedly gestured to the firmament above. In the moonless night sky, the Milky Way floated overhead like a celestial pathway to eternity, a billion stars lacing the inky blackness, the fragile light touching the upturned faces of the old man’s transient congregation. Viktor wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and gazed at the people around him. These were not the cultured or the sophisticated. They were neither scholarly nor worldly. These were simple people…his people. Tribesmen who had suffered for millennia and who were destined to suffer for another two thousand years before they would finally seize this little corner of the cosmos for themselves. He loved and feared for them. And wondered what they saw in those lights twinkling overhead. They couldn’t possibly conceive of the immense nuclear furnaces that blazed across the vast distances of space. They would never know that their glorious sun was but one unremarkable star in a huge spiral galaxy of stars. A galaxy that appeared above them as little more than a glittering white haze in the night sky, not unlike a fair-weather cloud. They knew nothing of other planets or black holes or even that a man could walk on the surface of the moon. They didn’t know about bacteria or viruses or electricity or genetics. They knew nothing of the atom or the expanding universe. They knew so little about science and medicine and chemistry and physics…and so many things. It should have made him feel superior. But it only made him feel terribly alone. Pulling his cloak tight around his neck, he curled up on a slab of rock that still radiated the warmth of the afternoon sun, and drifted off into a restless sleep.
The journey so far had been peaceful. He had made good time despite having gotten a much later start than he had planned. It had taken hours to put Anthea to sleep. Her mood had teetered between anger and sorrow. She held him close, weeping piteously, then pushed him away, telling him to leave her alone. She was hurting, and Viktor sat beside her on the pallet, stroking her hair until she had finally drifted off into the comfort of slumber. Then hurriedly bundling his few belongings in a sturdy cloak, he slipped out through the atrium, past the kitchen, and over the rear wall of the compound. Once beyond the city walls, he changed his clothes from the Roman style favored by the Salvo household, into the simple homespun garb of the Hebrew country folk. He had agonized over this aspect of the plan. While his regular attire might afford him safe passage by the Romans, it would also make him a target of Zealots and highwaymen, and certainly wouldn’t ingratiate him with the people of the rural provinces. So in preparation for the journey, he had purchased a set of clothing at the Hebrew bazaar outside town. Surprisingly comfortable, he hoped the garments would help him blend in with his countrymen. Though still a bit too well-groomed, his beard was fast growing, and he expected to fit in much better after a few days on the road. He should be safe. If only his mannerisms and accent didn’t betray him.
Once beyond the city walls, Viktor followed the aqueduct north, out past Septimus’s country villa. By the time the cockerel acknowledged the dawn, he had already put the outlying precincts of Caesarea behind him. Years of relative inactivity had dulled his military edge and he tired quickly, setting up camp well before dark on a low promontory at the edge a brackish coastal marsh. That evening he watched the sun slip into the sea, unaware that fate had brought him full circle, had brought him back to the place of his birth. Though in the cool twilight, the swamp and windswept hills bore little resemblance to what would one day become the orderly fields and fishponds of his boyhood home, the kibbutz Ma’agan Michael.
Keeping to himself, Viktor hiked along a narrow track that paralleled the coast and made it to the rolling foothills in less than two days. The countryside was green with the spring rains and the afternoons were pleasantly cool. Up ahead, the spine of Mount Carmel rose from the seashore and stretched across the horizon, blocking access to the north like a colossal rampart. From a distance, it looked pretty much the same as his childhood memories of nature hikes he had taken there with his grandfather. Regardless of all the changes wrought by mankind, the mountain had endured. That thought comforted him. Late on the third day, he was welcomed by the small group of travelers who had gathered around a freshwater spring at the base of the mountain. Weary and famished, he shared their food, their prayers, and their company. It was good to be back among his people. Yet he still felt so terribly alone.
CHAPTER 34
Ancient Palestine (circa 30 CE)
Early the next morning, turning his back on the sparkling blue sea, Viktor headed east following a well-worn route around the base of the mountain. The road beneath his feet was smooth and wide, but crowded with caravans and fouled with the droppings of countless pack animals. Above him, the lush green heights beckoned. Leaving the road, he climbed into the bed of a dried-up watercourse and followed the shallow ravine up toward the summit. Unburdened by modern industry, the sky was clear, the crisp air sweetened by a profusion of wildflowers that filled every crack and crevasse on the flank of the rocky mountainside. Topping a low escarpment, the watercourse leveled out and opened into a verdant meadow. Stately oak, pistacia, and pine trees encircled the field, spreading their muscular limbs to the sky, splintering the sunshine into magnificent fan-like shafts of radiance that sparkled like jewels in the dewy underbrush. Across the clearing, a roe deer and her fawn nibbled serenely at a tender clump of fern, while a chorus of crested warblers added their joyful song to the bucolic spectacle. Viktor’s spirit soared as he savored the unspoiled beauty of the morning, striding through the meadow like Adam through Eden.
Since fleeing the city, an unexpected spirituality had begun to blossom within him, not unlike the spring flowers that enveloped the surrounding countryside. Maybe it was the solitude, or maybe the fine weather. Maybe it was just the promise of a brand-new day, a morning like this when creation rejoiced and Yahweh’s presence was so palpable. A psalm came to his mind. Something his grandmother had read to him and Janka when their mother had been torn from their lives. That painful time when they had been lost and alone and so afraid.
“Do not despair, my little ones,” she told them. “You are never alone. Yahweh is always there beside you. Yahweh always knows where you are and what you are going through. Yahweh knows everything about you. He feels your pain. Listen to this psalm, children.” Opening a scuffed and dog-eared Tanakh, she read, “How precious are thy thoughts unto me, O God. How great is the sum of them. If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand. Remember these words, my little ones. It tells us that Yahweh’s thoughts for us are more than the number of tiny grains of sand on that beach out there. They are more than you can count in a hundred years. More than you can even imagine. That is how much Yahweh cares for you.”
Those words had brought little Viktor great comfort back then, and still had capacity to console him in manhood. Deep down, he believed. Even when he was self-absorbed, indifferent, or unaware, Yahweh was always there beside him. What an empowering belief it was, giving him the strength and courage to perform his duty as a soldier, along with the awesome responsibility of absolute incontrovertible accountability.
As he walked through the pristine solitude, his mind unfettered by the chatter of others, it seemed as though each step brought him a little closer to some profound understanding. A veil was lifting from his mind. Eyes wide open, he could see God’s hand in everything that had happened and everything that was going to happen. It seemed so clear. What was to be, would be. And as much as he would like to, he would never be able to change what was coming. No man could. He knew that now. In the stillness, he could almost hear the big gears turning, leading his people toward what he knew would come to pass. Partly, it was his knowledge of history and the crystal clarity that comes from hindsight. But it was more than that. Existence in this epoch had a whole different texture, so unlike the twenty-first century. Yahweh seemed to be t
aking a more active role. Viktor could feel the difference. It was time to cast aside all those temporal theories and mathematical constructs and philosophical paradigms. This wasn’t about physics. This was about God, and God’s plan for humankind. And what man could contest the will of the Almighty?
Is God really more involved with mankind in these times? he wondered. Is that why three of the great religions trace their origins back to these days and this place? Why had the modern world seemed so bereft of God’s presence? Had God turned away? Had God become tired of dealing with his stiff-necked creation and left mankind to work it out on their own? Would God ever return? Was there to be some final accounting, some last judgment, as the Christians believed? Or was the latest millennium of human existence just an insignificant pause on the cosmic timeline, a coffee break for the creator? These thoughts occupied his mind as he walked the very paths on which the great prophets had trod. His questions were many. His answers few. Yet one thing seemed undeniable. Yahweh was all around this place and time, exercising both his munificence and his righteous retribution. Viktor could feel it.
CHAPTER 35
Ancient Palestine (circa 30 CE)
The trail followed the spine of the ridge, rising and falling slightly with the undulating topography. Reaching its highest point, the path leveled out before dropping abruptly into the western end of the Jezreel Valley, the landscape suddenly opening up into a boundless vista. The length of the Jezreel Valley lay before him, stretching to the horizon. Somewhere out in the desert haze lay Mount Tabor and Mount Gilboa and beyond that, the Jordan River. Far below, columns of smoke rose lazily from the village of Gabae. Viktor hadn’t eaten since dawn and the prospect of a warm meal set his stomach to rumbling. With the sun starting its slow descent behind the mountain, and the heights already casting a long dark shadow across the valley floor, Viktor carefully picked his way down the steep slope and entered the village.
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