The Betrayed Series: Ultimate Omnibus Collection

by Carolyn McCray

  Bart turned to Lochum. “I would imagine this is no social visit. Not with Paris and all.”

  “No, I am afraid not. I have been flushed from the bush, but for such a noble calling. Might we discuss this in private?”

  “Of course, of course.”

  As they entered the rabbi’s office, Bart indicated two well-stuffed chairs across from his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

  “I believe it is you who should sit, Rabbi.”

  Bart obeyed as Lochum pulled John’s bone from his pocket and laid it upon the rabbi’s desk. “Be so kind as to inspect the shaft.”

  From his studies at Oxford, Bart should have enough ancient Greek to understand the gist. The rabbi stammered, “You are not suggesting…”

  Lochum nodded, then Bart found Rebecca’s face. It was only when she confirmed his unspoken question that the rabbi sat back down. “John. So this is John the Baptist… In Paris? He was buried under the Eiffel Tower?”

  “There is more. Please, ‘Becca, show him the passage.”

  Bart read it silently, then physically blanched. “All these years everyone has been searching in Buda, but… but James is in Pest?” His eyes flashed to Lochum. “You think because of our unique Christian influence that he might be buried under the synagogue?”

  He had always liked Bartholomew and thought him an apt student, but now he wanted to kiss the man. “Or on the grounds, yes.”

  Letting out a hissing breath, the rabbi leaned back into his chair. “If I had stumbled upon anything, anything at all, to suggest such a thing I would have contacted you, either of you, immediately.”

  “I have no doubt, Bart. But deep within your archives might be a hint to where we should start looking for his remains.”

  “It is a fine plan,” the rabbi acknowledged, but then turned to Rebecca. “But I don’t think you believe as deeply as Archibald that James lies here.”

  Rebecca’s eyes flickered to his. Lochum made it clear that she was to support him in this, but her fingers flew across the keyboard.

  “We have a second passage from John’s bones that I do not think supports this site as much as the first section.”

  Lochum watched as Bart read the text. It was clear that the passage concerned the rabbi as well. He meant to cut off the debate, but Rebecca jumped in. “Do you know what the reference ‘four and one’ means?”

  The rabbi shrugged. “The four horsemen and the one true God?” Rebecca shook her head before he continued, “Then I’m sorry, I know of no other reference in Judaism.”

  “How about a reference to a stag?”

  Bartholomew reflected, then spoke. “There is the Kenesh. A white stag that lives in a mythical forest called the Divei llai.” Seeing Rebecca’s frown, he continued, “It does not look like I hold much practical value for you.”

  Lochum slid his way into the disappointed silence. “Then until we have more data, we must proceed with what we do know.”

  “And what would that be, Archibald?”

  He took a deep breath, since what he asked went against all that the rabbi held dear. “I must enter your Aron Kodesh. Your Holy Ark.”

  * * *

  Rebecca sat in as stunned silence as the rabbi. What Lochum asked was ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. It was blasphemy. The ark held the shul’s most treasured scrolls of the Torah, many dating back to the seventh century BC. They were considered sacred, and only those found worthy by years of faith were allowed to view them from afar, let alone enter the ark itself.

  Lochum rushed into the silence. “You have gathered the greatest collection of this region’s proto-Christian scrolls, Bart. You must—”

  The rabbi found his voice. “But they give no reference to Christ’s brother. They detail God’s word before the crucifixion. Not after.” He became more agitated. “Archibald, you of all people know that!”

  “And we both know that the scribes often wrote their own notes in the margins, many times chronicling the turbulence of their own times. Times much later than the originating document. I would imagine a man claiming to be the Son of God and a descendant of King David might have stirred some controversy. Enough that they might have mentioned rumors of that man’s brother finding his way to this fair land.”

  Rebecca felt equal parts admiration and anger. She had never thought to use the Sifrei Torahs for inspiration, but concealing his plan was typical Lochum. Trust to him was a commodity to be tightly restricted.

  Bart seemed both excited and doubtful. “But I have studied the texts… However, at the time I was not aware of the dualist nor the Pest references.”

  “Yes! With Rebecca’s program we can shift through the material from the scribes’ musings and ferret out clues. Whether the bones be here or not, they must be near. Pest at the time of this writing was only so big, no?”

  It was obvious that the rabbi’s mind scrambled to find reasons not to fulfill Lochum’s request. “I am but a teacher. The Shamash would never allow such a thing.” He turned to her. “Help me, Rebecca. Explain to him.”

  But she shook her head. “He’s right, Bart, and you know it. With the citywide celebration outside, it would easy for you to clear the synagogue without raising too many questions.”

  “I guess no one would suspect if I gave the staff the day off to participate in this afternoon’s festivities…” Bart’s voice trailed off, and then strengthened. “Give me a few moments. I will return when it is safe.”

  The rabbi shuffled from the room, but his feet did not quite agree with his decision. Once the door was shut, she turned to Lochum.

  “Withhold plans like this again, and I walk.”

  The professor leaned back and propped his feet up on the rabbi’s desk. “But to where, my dear ‘Becca, to where?”

  Rebecca felt the old resentment snake its way back into her chest. Not because of what he had just said, but for the query he did not voice.

  With Brandt gone, to whom would she run?

  That was the question she couldn’t answer.

  The Flock

  ══════════════════

  Judea

  AD 42

  “Just as God has his flock to tend, each man has his own, which he must guard through storm and drought,” Jesus said to the dozen children gathered at his feet as Judas mended a harness that had become frayed. But the stitching became nearly impossible as the sun’s light waned. James must have noticed his difficulty, for he rose and lit a candle.

  They had just returned after two long months in the countryside, and with the ache in his leg, he was glad for this time when Jesus could teach in a house with chairs and cushions.

  Jesus asked the children, “Do you understand of what I speak?”

  They all nodded, but Ameil the most. He nearly bounded from the floor to answer. “Sheep need green grass and always a fresh spring!”

  Judas tempered his chuckle at the boy’s simple interpretation of Jesus’ meditation on man’s responsibility to his family. He knew the deeper meaning of the parable would come to Ameil in due course, yet the others could become frustrated if all did not understand Jesus’ words immediately. However, it was the Savior himself who laughed the loudest. Soon the others—James, Matthew, Simon, Thomas, and Mary of Magdalene—joined in.

  It was a rare moment of levity in what had been a most trying trek that had lasted weeks longer and yielded far fewer results than any had imagined. They had returned home lean of frame and down in spirits. The priests had not embraced their friend’s ministry, as all had assumed they would.

  Jesus pulled the boy into a hug. “Very good, Ameil. Very good. You have indeed listened well!”

  Dressed in a blue shawl tugged over her head, even within her own house, Mary entered, chiding, “Ah, will you not break even for supper?”

  Jesus lifted Ameil high into the air and tossed him high before catching him barely above the ground. The boy squealed in delight, but Jesus’ tone sobered. “It has been an excellent les
son, but it is time to seek your hearths and prepare the table before your mothers scold you.”

  Mary frowned, but Jesus grinned to assuage her feelings.

  “Will you teach us about shearing tomorrow?” Ameil asked excitedly. “I so want to learn so I might help with the sheep this summer!”

  Kissing the boy on the cheek, Jesus set him down. “Of course! And the day after Sabbath we will speak of the proper care of chickens.”

  Ameil’s eyes lit up as if given the sweetest tidbit. “Promise?”

  Judas felt the room tense. Mary especially. She might be perturbed with her son, but no one was allowed to question Jesus’ moral might. Judas went to apologize, but his friend was already patting Ameil on the head.

  “On my honor,” Jesus swore solemnly.

  The boy gave a joyful cry, and with the rest of the children, poured out of the room, their shouts carrying on a slight breeze that rustled the parchments Thomas was writing upon.

  Mary eyed the gathering of them and shook her head as she turned to walk from the room. “Supper will be ready before the sun sets.”

  “Might you linger for a few moments? We have matters of great urgency to discuss before breaking bread.”

  Looking at her son, it was clear that his mother was proud to be included but equally annoyed that Jesus’ followers were all living under her roof. “Food does not prepare itself for so many. I will retreat to the kitchen, where a woman serves her family best.”

  Everyone’s eyes darted to Magdalene. The barb was not at all tempered, but the dark-haired beauty meekly continued sewing. Jesus’ mother might have resented the lot of them, but this woman she openly disdained.

  And Judas could understand why. Ever since they had found Magdalene locked in the cellar, convulsing on the dirt floor, Jesus had been devoted to her. The younger Mary’s family had thought her cursed and placed her far from the village’s suspicious eyes before they were blamed for her possession.

  He, James, Thomas, and Matthew had knelt beside Jesus on that cold, earthen floor through the night. None of them thought that the afflicted woman would survive to see the sunrise. But Jesus had fed her thick syrups and thin potions he had learned from the Essenes. With each course of medicinals, Jesus laid his hands upon her and a demon fled her body. Still, even when her form quieted, Magdalene’s mind was closed. Nothing could rouse her. Mary would seem truly dead, then convulse into another seizure. They repeated the medicinals and prayers each time until seven demons were cast out, and she suddenly awoke.

  Since Mary and Jesus’ eyes had locked that misty morning, they were near inseparable. Magdalene’s brother had escorted her to Jesus’ door, then surrendered her into the Virgin’s care, but would not cross their threshold, and returned to the village of Zagar without a glance back.

  “We will be only a few moments then, Mother,” Jesus said, breaking the humid silence that had settled between them.

  With the faintest snort, Mary left, but her son did not seem to notice her displeasure. Instead, he turned to James. “In a week’s time, we will go forth into the world and truly begin my ministry.”

  “Brother, we have tried, but were nearly stoned in Gergesa, and the kind rabbis of Hippo threatened to turn us over to the Romans for agitation.”

  But at this, Jesus smiled. “That is where we made our miscalculation. I had thought John remiss for reaching out to the people themselves and eschewing the priests, but I see now how wise he was.”

  Thomas stirred from his writing. “And he has gained the Romans’ ire for it. Throngs flock to him wherever he appears, so they have a legion of their stoutest centurions following as well.”

  “In all the time in the desert, the one thing God did not tell me was that spreading his love would be a simple task. It is to the people we must embark.” Jesus’ eyes lit up. “Just like these children, I will embrace them to my bosom.”

  Andrew shook his head. “But they are not learned. They understood nothing of your words.”

  “Ah, but they listened, dear Andrew, they listened!” Jesus laughed aloud, then sobered. “Did a single rabbi heed a word I uttered?”

  Andrew could not retort, for Jesus was right. His lessons of love flew in the face of their power. They seemed to care only how God’s word might favor them.

  Jesus continued, “Upon the start of the next week, we shall go north. We will fill our number with twelve disciples.” He inclined his head toward Magdalene. “Mary knows why she cannot be counted.”

  She nodded in agreement, but once Jesus’ eyes left her, Magdalene’s lips pinched. She might know the reason, but she did not seem to like it.

  Jesus did not appear to notice this Mary’s unease either, for he continued, “Once full of health, we shall visit every village in Judea where I will hear their hearts so they might hear mine.”

  James sighed. It was clear that he did not think his concerns would sway his brother, but he seemed equally obliged to voice them. “I know you believe God will provide, sweet brother, but we have emptied our coffers. How will we travel with so long without work? How will we feed our families?”

  “For once I welcome you asking, James.” He nodded to Magdalene, who produced a large purse from the folds of her dress. Jesus opened the drawstring so that the silver coins glistened in the candlelight. “Magdalene has been kind enough to offer her dowry to our ministry.”

  All were speechless as James ran his fingers through the coins. “It is most generous, but within a year we will be once again reduced to paupers.”

  Jesus’ lips turned up, but in a sad smile. “I do not think we need to figure that far ahead.” Brightening, he grasped his brother’s shoulder. “This will see all of us through to Passover, will it not?”

  James’ eyes clouded as he went to take the purse, but Jesus withdrew the leather pouch.

  It was Magdalene who spoke. “James, you know I hold you above reproach.” She bowed her head to the other men. “As I do you all, but I have seen Judas barter with the villagers and Romans alike. He has no equal. To gain an entire cart of hay for a half copper was truly remarkable.”

  James went to retort, but Judas was quicker. “I could not take on such a responsibility. It has always been James’ place to care for the earnings and shall always be.”

  Jesus looked at both of them. “I have long burdened my brother with the upkeep of our household. It is time that he be able to follow his heart and study the Scriptures rather than our finances. Would you not welcome such a relief, James?”

  Judas was not so sure James agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment, but after Jesus’ impassioned speech, how could he contradict his brother? And now Judas was in the same quandary. How could he deny helping James?

  A warm smile spread across Jesus’ lips. “Then it is agreed.”

  Magdalene’s cheeks blushed as she passed the purse over to him. Judas had never held such a sum before. It weighed heavily in his hand, especially as the others looked upon him as if he were not worthy. But what could he do? No one disagreed long with Jesus. How could you think yourself better equipped to argue than the Son of God?

  “Well then, I should join your mother in the kitchen, or we might find ourselves without dessert,” Magdalene said as she rose.

  As she passed, Jesus her hand brushed against his knee in a most casual manner. Judas’ eyes darted to James. Was there an engagement between the two that he was not privy to? But James sharply shook his head. The other men did not seem to notice, so Judas made no issue of the touch. What happened between Jesus and Magdalene was a private matter.

  Once she was gone, James rose. “We have much to arrange if we leave within the week.”

  Andrew nodded. “I shall send word to John.”

  “The merchants are closed, but I shall assemble a register of foods we shall carry with us,” said Philip. He continued, “I do not wish to find ourselves on the wrong end of a bargain for grain as we did in Gamela.”

  The others made their exit, leaving onl
y Jesus, James, and Judas. It was not that he thought himself such a familiar to linger with the brothers. It was just that Judas was loath to gain his feet in front of the others.

  After sitting so long, his right leg did not cooperate, and his rising was a most awkward sight. Even if he stumbled only a little, Judas felt the others judged him as weak. Their eyes were always questioning why Jesus had included one such as he in their esteemed rank. So Judas waited until he was certain that the men had gone before he braced himself, using the wall to help his ascent, but Jesus grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

  “Thank you,” Judas said, then quickly added, “for all the favors you have given.”

  James retorted as he exited, “I would not be so quick to thank, Judas.”

  What a strange thing to say, Judas thought. He had felt James beyond any petty feud they might have had, but when he turned to Jesus he could see in his friend’s eyes that James knew something he did not.

  “I now know why John said you would be the one to suffer the most.”

  Judas flinched at the Baptist’s name. He had tried so very hard to block the man’s prophecy from his mind.

  “I fear Ameil cannot accompany us for so long a journey,” Jesus added.

  Judas was quick to jump in. “I have a sum saved and can do small work along the way to pay his share and—”

  “No, no, Judas. We would all welcome the boy.”

  “Then I do not understand.”

  For once he could see the similarity between James and Jesus. Most commented on how Judas and Jesus seemed more brothers than those two, but with the look of true reluctance to speak, Jesus was nearly James’ twin.

  “Earlier this afternoon I went to see his father so I might apologize for returning his son so tardily.”

  “Ameil should not have troubled you with such things,” Judas mumbled.

  “Your nephew betrayed no confidence, Judas. He only said that he did not know why his father had shouted at you upon your return. I discerned the rest on my own.”

  “And because of that Kyle will not allow Ameil to join us?”