“Not without a fight. It is just as likely I will put one in his.”
“Brave words, but foolish. I do not want either to happen. As long as you tarry here, the man who seeks you will as well. That is one combatant neutralized. I must be off to Loukas and tell him what you told me. The more people know it, the safer you will be.”
Chapter XXIII
Ali bin Selah had had enough. That the servant, the would-be errand runner, had been sent out on a scouting mission and had spotted him and the man across the street seemed obvious. How or why Gamaliel had tumbled to one or the other or of them or even why he bothered to look would be a question to address another day. As much as he wanted to know what that other lurker sought, he did not want to be found out even more. When the rabban’s front door slammed shut, Ali joined a crowd of passers-by and set off toward the Sheep Gate and thence to Loukas. He had hoped to avoid a visit to the physician at any cost but circumstances had changed and not in his favor. After the events of the past few days he felt he needed to act promptly. His limitations were significant. Not only was he acting alone, but just finding his way in this strange city was difficult even in the best of times. Now it meant he must approach Loukas and discover what he and the rabban knew. He had no other choice, and then, if his friend and the rabbi had uncovered some things…well, that could pose other problems, but first things first. He needed to speak with Loukas.
As he was not as familiar with the streets of Jerusalem as he would like to have been, and because it was important to avoid the Temple mount, he took a more circuitous route through the city. Also, in an effort to confuse and lose anyone who in the off chance might have picked up his trail, he doubled back several times. For those reasons and because his hunger required a stop to purchase and eat something, he took longer than he might have otherwise to find the right gate to exit the city, pass through it, and make his way down the slope to the physician’s house.
How could he have known that Gamaliel had also decided to consult with Loukas, had taken a direct route, and arrived ahead of him? Loukas would not be the only person to be surprised at Ali’s unexpected arrival.
***
Loukas greeted Gamaliel and offered him a bench. He raised his eyebrows and jerked his head toward the room he’d had carved in the hillside where, because of its natural coolness, he kept his wine, among other things—including corpses when necessary. In fact, the body of the dead man still lay in it, but this odd usage was not something either of them spoke of.
“If you are offering me wine, the answer is no, thank you. I need a clear head. If you are suggesting we discuss our dead man, the answer is yes. I have learned something in the last hour which is disturbing but at the same time revealing.” He frowned and sat. “Why do I have the feeling I may be sinking into that sand they say is found in the great Egyptian desert that swallows people up?”
“It is that serious?”
“It is.”
“Then I will have the wine even if you will not.”
Loukas went to fetch refreshments. The courtyard gate rattled as if someone sought to gain entrance. It was bolted as usual. Loukas was hospitable but not stupid. An unlatched gate was a license to steal.
“Who seeks to come into the House of the Physician?” Loukas asked, very formally, his normal address to patients, current or aspiring.
“Ali bin Selah, Loukas, open up quickly. I have need of you, and I do not wish to be seen in the street.”
Loukas strode to the gate and unbolted it to allow his friend entrance. He glanced at the person outside and began to swing it shut.
“No, no, truly, Loukas, it is I, Ali. I have changed my appearance that is all. I will explain why later, but now please let me in.” Ali squeezed through the gate.
“I don’t understand—”
“I did not wish to involve you in this affair, my friend, but you see my brother—”
“Ali bin Selah, we meet again it seems,” Gamaliel made his presence known. As much as he wanted to hear bin Selah’s reason for his unusual appearance and the circumstances that forced him to it, he felt certain that Ali might not be inclined to share it so freely if he knew he had a listener other than Loukas.
Ali whirled and took in the courtyard, Gamaliel and Loukas. “How….? I just left your house. You could not have…you were not there? I saw your students enter. Seven of them and then the servant came out and—”
“Six.”
“What?”
“I have six students. The seventh man was a Temple guard. He came to tell me something about the night of the murder in the Temple. I came here, obviously by a shorter route, to confer with Loukas, and that, I assume, is what has brought you here as well.”
“You have the advantage of me.”
“So it would seem. If you wish to consult with our friend and my presence is inconvenient, I will retire. But I must tell you I am more than curious to know why you went to such extremes to hide yourself.”
Ali seemed momentarily lost in thought, eyes closed in concentration, brow furrowed. “Six, you say, and the seventh was a guard with information about the body in the temple. Did you know that your visitor was followed to your house by someone who seemed interested in him, and not in the best of ways?”
“I did. Being tracked and trailed by a variety of villains seems to be the occupation in which half this city engages lately. Loukas and I were subject to that the day after you and I met. That man said he had been tailing you and having lost sight of you, hoped Loukas would lead him back. Now, the guard has a follower. I can only guess that your radical change in appearance is due to your suspecting something of the same. I knew there were two men watching my house and now I know you must have been one of them. Would it be too much to ask if you will tell me why before I leave you to confer with Loukas in private?”
“I will offer just this—I intended to visit Loukas. The reasons are not important—”
“Not?”
“For the purposes of answering your question, no. I guessed you and he were engaged in this murder business and you could well be here when I called. I slipped around to your house to find out.”
“You know where I live?”
“One only has to ask anyone in the street for the location of the rabban’s house.”
“But you didn’t come here,”
“If you will allow me to finish. I saw your students arrive. I assumed, incorrectly, that there were seven not six, and as I turned to leave, the other man arrived. He had a familiar face. I stayed to find out, if I could, what interest he had in you. As I said, I thought all of the men entering your house this morning were your students.”
“And what prompted you to leave?”
“I guessed if he were waiting for you, I could come here and speak to Loukas in private. But it seems I took too long in coming, so my plans were foiled.”
Gamaliel stared at Ali for a long time. Finally he sat down again and placed his hands on his knees. “Loukas,” he said. “I will have that wine now. No doubt our visitor from Parthia will join us.”
“Assyria.”
“Pardon, my mistake. For some reason I got it into my head it was Parthia.”
“I see. No, I am from Assyria, I assure you.”
“Very well, Assyria it is. Sit, Ali bin Selah, and tell me first why you withheld from your friend, Loukas, that the body in his store room was your brother. When you have done that I would like a lesson on the compounding of cough syrup.”
Chapter XXIV
Loukas stared blankly at Gamaliel. Ali seemed dazed. His eyes darted first to Loukas, then to the fig tree, and then to Gamaliel. A small bird lit on one of the tree’s branches. Gamaliel did not know much about birds. This one had a thick beak which led him to believe it fed on fruit and nuts, not insects, but he realized he could be mistaken. One has
to be careful at jumping to conclusions based on assumptions.
Loukas poured the wine for himself and his two guests. He seemed ill at ease, which should have been no surprise given he had the rabban of the Sanhedrin in full interrogation mode and Ali bin Selah in what could only be described as fugitive mode. He sighed and sat. A breeze ruffled the leaves of his fig tree, and the scents from his herb garden drifted across the courtyard to the trio.
“As I said earlier, if my presence will disrupt your talk with Loukas,” Gamaliel said, “I can retreat either temporarily or permanently. However, I do have things to report to you, Loukas, and will need your thoughts.”
Finally, Ali turned to Gamaliel. “Loukas says he trusts you. He says you can unravel difficult riddles. I will trust you as well. I must think how to put it to you, but first tell me what you meant about my brother.”
“I think your brother is, or I should say was, the man Hannah. What I am not clear on is when exactly he died and why.”
“And the compounding of cough mixture?”
“Ah, that I think, has a great deal to do with what is going on, why the Palace seems to be involved in the Temple murder and…well the list goes on.”
“You think my brother is someone called Hana? Why would you think that?”
Gamaliel hesitated. Ali’s Assyrian or Parthian accent shortened the name. Was that important? Something did not smell right here and it wasn’t Loukas’ herb garden. He sensed—an assumption to be sure—that Ali was not yet ready to be forthcoming. He shook his head.
“His shop was burned to the ground and a body lay in the ashes. Even as we speak the authorities are attempting to ascertain the cause of death. They may have difficulty doing so as the body had been badly burned, like our dead man in the Holy of Holies. I wonder, do you suppose that could be a coincidence?”
“How can I say? I am a stranger to the city and to your murder. How does this relate to my brother again?
Gamaliel watched as Ali’s eyes seemed to go opaque, like a snake’s do from time to time, particularly when they are about to shed their skin. Whatever he had on his mind it would not be articulated anytime soon. Gamaliel guessed that this Assyrian would soon shed this most recent persona like the snake and reinvent himself once more.
“You see, my brother’s name is Achmir, Rabban, not Hana. He is dead, murdered in fact, but not lately. Some weeks ago to be exact. Why would you think that the man in Loukas’ cave is my brother?”
“Achmir, you say. Then I am wrong and I beg your pardon.”
“But you have yet to answer my question.”
“And you are in a disguise. Shall we discuss that instead?”
Ali stood and glanced at the gate. “I must go, Loukas. I will call on you another time.” He bolted to the gate and dashed through before Loukas could reply, much less protest.
“What was that all about?” he said.
“I think you will find that your friend, Ali, has a secret which, like a landslide, started as a small disturbance at the top of a hill and has now grown to a life-threatening event. One that might bury us all.”
“A landslide destined to kill? You do not often wax poetic, Rabban. Why did you believe this Hannah person was Ali’s brother?”
“A stab in the dark, I confess. There was something…My friend, Jacob, is blind and he sees, he tells me, with his ears. I thought I heard something in Ali’s voice and, like blind Jacob, made a guess as to what it meant. I was wrong.”
“Really? That is not like you—to guess, I mean, not the business of being wrong.”
“Yes, well, tell me about cough mixtures.”
“If you promise to tell me what the guard told you.”
“Of course.”
***
Gamaliel had many scrolls and bound sheets of papyri. Most of them dealt with the Law, its proper interpretation, and application. He also had holy writ, commentaries on it, and opinions from others like himself on a variety of subjects, almost all related to interpretation of Torah. He rummaged through the stacks of scrolls and volumes in search of one of the few pieces he owned that had only a glancing relationship with the rest of his collection. He found it in the very back of a dusty shelf with the few other items that did not connect with his studies or students either. He carried it to a table and unrolled it, taking great care not to crack its edges. It had not been opened for years.
He spent the next hour reading and taking notes. When he finished, he sat frowning at the scrap in front of him. It made sense in a way, but why would one fight and fuss over such a trivial thing, much less kill for it? Was hul gil, the joy plant, really so important? Why should an ingredient found in tonics compounded for coughs, aches, and assorted maladies precipitate so much interest? If his sources were correct, and he had no reason to doubt them, then the late but not lamented Alexander the Macedonian must shoulder some of the blame for this mess. Perhaps that would explain the palace’s interest in his investigation. But would it also explain the army following all of them— him, Ali, the guard, and who knew who else?
Furthermore, Ali bin Selah dramatically changed his appearance and he had lied. Why? From whom was he hiding and what secret drove him to his present state? Did it have something to do with this substance? Why would he need to disclaim any knowledge of Hana or Hannah? Gamaliel felt certain the two were related and closely so. Something Loukas had said tweaked at his memory, but he could not get his mind around it. Something about Draco, the ill servant currently at death’s door. Whatever Loukas had said, it would not come. Most days Gamaliel was comfortable in his advancing age, but there were other times, like this one, when memory and words failed him, that he experienced a small stab of fear. Age is not a comfortable cloak to wear.
Benyamin tapped on the door.
“Yes, Benyamin?”
“I did as you asked and followed the guardsman. The man was indeed waiting for him and took up his trail immediately.”
“Were you noticed?”
“I do not believe so. As I said, the tracker stepped out onto the street. Our man slipped around a corner, and the shadow followed. When I arrived at the corner, I found the latter doubled up on the ground with a very large bruise on his head and no sign of the guard.”
“Zach said he could handle it. He must realize that another will find him, and if the plan was to kill him for what he knew or they think he knows, they will not stop trying until they succeed or the need goes away.”
“And how will that come about?”
“If I can sort through the tangled threads of this business and find a killer or two, it might. Of course, I may not do that in time. My worry now is for Ali bin Selah.”
“Who?”
“A friend of Loukas the Physician and a player in this drama. I fear he could be the next and unnecessary victim. As the saying goes, one reaps what one sows.”
“Who says that?”
“Lots of people, Benyamin. I am surprised you have not heard it.”
“It must be from the areas where cultivating crops is the major occupation. Almost no one sows in the city.”
“Very true. One wonders what sorts of mutual understandings we could construct if the people in the city sowed and the country people traded.”
Chapter XXV
After his meal, Gamaliel retired to his room to read. Once again he added more oil than usual to his lamp and read on into the night. As curious as he was to sort through the bits and pieces of the murders, feeling certain they were connected, he did not wish to abandon his studies altogether. He’d done that once before and it had gone hard with his spirit.
The next morning, he awoke late and groggy. As a rule, when he arose it would be to the cooking aromas emanating from the kitchen. Not this morning. Benyamin had let him sleep and had waited. He rose and washed his face, said his morning praye
rs, and headed to the center of his house, a large naturally lighted atrium. He sat at table and called for his servant. Benyamin poked his head around the corner and scowled.
“You would eat now?”
“Only some cheese, and bread, and water.”
“You’re sure that’s all? It is not enough to sustain a child.”
“It is enough for me.”
The servant reappeared with the end of a loaf of bread, a pot of honey, cheese, and some figs.
“I did not ask for all of this.”
“You will need it. A messenger just arrived and said the high priest requires your presence at once.”
“At once, he says. We shall see about that, but you are correct, under these new circumstances I will need sustenance.”
Gamaliel dawdled over his meal and considered what Caiaphas wanted from him this time. Surely he didn’t intend to pursue his obsession with the Galilean rabbi. Perhaps, at last, his ire had raised the level of righteous anger. Perhaps he would act to unmask the perpetrator of the worst desecration to the temple since Nebuchadnezzar’s hoards descended on the city and looted Solomon’s Temple and carried away its people. Perhaps, but probably not. There was something not right about the high priest’s reaction to the whole situation. Gamaliel would like to know what brought it on, but dared not ask. There are answers to some questions you do not want to know.
His meal finished, he retired to his study to pray, as was his custom unless something urgent occurred that required his attention. His morning prayers, a visit to his mikvah, and a change of clothes completed, he set out for the house of Caiaphas. The high priest lived near enough to him to make the walk almost pleasant. The view from Caiaphas’ forecourt across the Kidron to the Mount of Olives might be the finest in the city, except possibly that from the roof terraces at the palace. If he were allowed to do so, if the Law were not so specific on the issue, Gamaliel would covet that view. He imagined one could sit there in the cool of an evening and feel very close to the Lord. He wondered if the high priest ever did—feel close to the Lord, that is; not sit there.
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