David nodded, the pleasure showing in his eyes. “We stopped briefly at the Antonia Fortress and talked to Sextus Rubrius as we came through Jerusalem this afternoon.”
“You did?”
“Of course,” his mother answered. “We were very anxious to hear any news of you.”
Simeon was appropriately chastened. “Mother, we don’t dare risk sending a letter out. If Ya’abin were ever to intercept it—”
“I know,” she said, “but we knew that you report regularly to Sextus, so we stopped to see what he knew.”
Simeon nodded, not really surprised. “Yehuda and I are going to see him tomorrow and give him the latest news. He’s a good man. A good friend. If it weren’t for his reports to Marcus, I’m afraid Marcus would not have persuaded Pilate to give us the extended time he promised us.”
“He is a good man,” David agreed. “And he said he’s quite impressed with what you are doing. You’ve taken eight of Ya’abin’s men prisoner?”
“Actually more than that now, but Sextus doesn’t know it yet.”
“Good,” David said quietly. “Sextus says Marcus is going to need something concrete before he’ll be convinced you’re making progress.”
That stopped Simeon. “Marcus? Here in Jerusalem?”
“Sextus said he arrived just yesterday. Came back from Rome in time for Passover.”
That was a second surprise. “He was in Rome? What about Miriam and her father?”
Deborah shook her head. “With Ya’abin still out there, they’ll stay in Rome for awhile longer.”
“Good. We’ve been nipping at Ya’abin’s heels, and I don’t think he’s had much time to think about getting revenge; but until he’s in the cage, it’s better that Miriam isn’t here.”
Then, realizing there were two people he hadn’t yet greeted, Simeon went over to them. “Shalom, Uncle Benjamin. Shalom, Aunt Esther.”
They greeted him warmly, with Esther giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome, Simeon. It is so good to have you with us again.”
In actuality, Benjamin was his father’s cousin and therefore was Simeon’s cousin also, but he had always called them uncle and aunt. Benjamin was a shepherd of the priestly order assigned to watch over the flocks of sheep destined for sacrifice in the temple. For a time he had moved to Jerusalem, but now he was back in the family home in Bethlehem. David’s family had been staying with them for so many years when they came up for the festivals, they were like immediate family. In fact, Aunt Esther had mothered Deborah’s children so much that Ephraim had named his first daughter after her.
Simeon turned back to his parents. “So what about Jesus? Did he come up from the Galilee too?”
“Of course,” Deborah answered. “And Peter and Anna and all the rest. They’re all here.”
“Where are they staying?”
“Jesus is in Bethany, on the east side of the Mount of Olives. There’s a family there he always stays with. Anna and Peter are there as well. As you remember, John has a relative who is a servant to the family of Caiaphas. So John and James and their parents are staying in the Upper City.”
“Will Jesus be teaching tomorrow?” Simeon wondered.
“I’m sure he will. Peter said we’d likely see them on the Temple Mount.”
“Good, I’ve missed that.” He had a sudden thought and turned to his cousin. Benjamin had been with Simeon’s father that night on the shepherd’s fields, thirty-one years ago this very season. “Have you two had a chance to hear Jesus yet?”
“No,” Benjamin answered, “but we’re going with you tomorrow. We’re very excited to hear Jesus after everything your parents have told us about him.”
“Does it seem a little strange to think this might be the same baby you saw that night so long ago?”
He nodded emphatically. “I don’t think there’s any question about ‘might be.’ And now at last we see the promise fulfilled.” He looked at David. “Do you remember what the angel said that night?”
“Perfectly,” David said without hesitation.
“‘For unto you is born this day,’” he quoted softly, “‘in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.’”
Esther reached out and took her husband’s hand. “And tomorrow we shall finally get to meet him.” Her eyes shone with excitement.
They were quiet as they thought about that; then finally Leah spoke up. “What about Yehuda and the others? Did they come up to Jerusalem with you?”
“We all came in together, but they’ve got friends or relatives here too, mostly in Jerusalem,” Simeon said. “Yehuda sends greetings to all of you.”
“Is Shana with them?” Leah asked.
Simeon gave her a sharp look and then nodded.
“Are you going to see her?”
There was a quick shake of his head.
To his surprise, his mother nodded at that. “That’s probably for the best, Simeon.” Then she turned to Esther. “Well, we are all here now.”
“Wonderful. Supper is waiting.”
II
Jerusalem 9 April, a.d. 31
“We are here to speak with the centurion, Sextus Rubrius.” Simeon spoke in near-perfect Latin.
The guard eyed Simeon and Yehuda up and down warily. “Names?”
“Just tell him that we are two wanderers from the wilderness of Judea.”
“I need more than a clever reply to trouble one of our officers,” the man said with an insolent sneer.
Simeon pulled his hood back and looked the man straight in the face. “You’ll need new skin on your back if Sextus learns that you delayed the report for which he is waiting.”
The use of the first name did it. There was a flash of anger, but at the same time, the guard weighed the consequences if this was not just a bluff. “Stay here,” he grumbled, then turned and went through the huge gate of the Antonia Fortress.
Simeon and Yehuda moved over against the wall of the fortress where the morning sun had not penetrated yet and the air was cool. They didn’t have long to wait, nor were they surprised when two figures appeared instead of one. They straightened as Sextus Rubrius and Marcus Quadratus Didius joined them.
“Well, look at who is back,” Simeon said, feigning surprise. He had decided it wouldn’t be wise to indicate that Sextus had met with Simeon’s family yesterday.
Marcus nodded curtly. “Yes.” His voice was cool as he took the measure of the two of them.
“Did Miriam and her father return with you?”
“No. And what concern would that be to you?”
Simeon caught the testiness in the tribune’s voice. He shrugged. “Since part of the reason for our release to track down Ya’abin was the danger to Mordechai and his daughter, I was hoping they had not returned too early.”
“We’ll be the judge of that, not you,” he snapped.
Simeon was surprised. The relationship between him and Marcus had seen some tense moments, but he sensed something more today. It was like the tribune was trying to goad him somehow. Simeon looked at Sextus Rubrius. His eyes were hooded, his face impassive. There would be no clues from that direction. He looked back to Marcus. “And welcome home to you too.”
“Let’s go inside,” Marcus grunted. “Sextus has briefed me, but I want to hear everything from you.”
“We have something to deliver to you.”
“What?”
“It’s too large to carry. We’ll meet you outside the walls, down in the Kidron Valley in front of the Tomb of Zachariah.” He looked at Sextus. “You’ll want to bring some men with you, maybe two quaternions.” Ignoring the look of surprise on both their faces, Simeon turned and walked away, Yehuda beside him.
III
In the Kidron Valley, east of Jerusalem
During the season of heavy rains, the Brook Kidron, which ran between Mount Moriah, or the Temple Mount, and the Mount of Olives, could become a torrent. Now it was barely a trickle. Another week or so and it would be only a dusty creek bed
once again. Simeon and Yehuda waited in a stand of cypress trees about fifty paces from the brook. They were just outside the entrance to the Tomb of Zachariah.
The tomb was one of several massive funerary shrines hewn out of the rock face that formed the base of the Mount of Olives. Supposedly built to honor the king of Israel by that name, it was probably of more recent origin than that. The monuments were not the only tombs, however. Many people believed that if one was buried here on the Mount of Olives, he or she would be the first to come forth from the grave when the trumpet for the resurrection sounded. The lower slopes near the monuments were already filled with graves. In fact, this was the very reason why Simeon and Yehuda had chosen the spot.
Under the statutes of the Mosaic Law, any contact with the dead made a person unclean. When a person died in a house or tent, everyone and everything in the house became unclean for seven days. To come in contact with a dead body, to walk on a grave, or even to touch a single bone of a skeleton rendered a person unclean for one full week. An elaborate purification ritual was required to purge oneself of such uncleanness, including bathing and washing one’s clothing. Priests were under even more stringent requirements in this regard.
Simeon’s father had explained this to him once, saying it was a symbolic reminder of a spiritual reality. Death was the ultimate proof of the corruptible nature of this mortal existence. Being perfectly holy, nothing God did was corruptible, nor could any corruption be allowed into his presence. So this prohibition was God’s way of teaching the people that they should make every effort to avoid spiritual corruption.
Whatever the reason, burial sites all over Israel were carefully marked so people could avoid stepping on a grave and polluting themselves. Sepulchres were often whitewashed to clearly mark them as places of the dead. Because of all that, people went to cemeteries only when a burial was required; otherwise, they might inadvertently step on a grave and be forced to undergo the rituals of purification. Knowing all of that, Simeon had specifically set the Kidron Valley as the place of meeting. There was plenty of space without graves, and that was where they were right now, but no one would risk being contaminated during Passover week, for then they would not be allowed to participate in the feast. Thus, even with tens of thousands of people overflowing the city, there was little chance that he and Yehuda and the Romans would be disturbed here.
“There they are,” Yehuda said, pointing through the trees.
Simeon had already seen the movement of a column of men through the trees. He moved forward a little to see better. Marcus stopped the column, said something to his men, then moved forward with Sextus Rubrius behind him.
“All right,” Marcus said curtly, “let’s see what you have to show for almost nine months of freedom.”
There it was again. It wasn’t open hostility, but it was belligerent and provocative. Simeon just smiled. “Did you not sleep well on the ship, Tribune?”
Marcus bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You seem to be looking for a fight. I’m not sure why. Would you like to settle something first so we can get on with this?”
Simeon thought he saw just a hint of amusement in Sextus’s eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. Marcus glared at him for a long moment, then finally muttered something. “Show me what you have,” he said.
Simeon led the way back into the trees where a donkey was harnessed to a small two-wheeled cart. Marcus moved in immediately, sniffing the air. “Incense?” he asked.
Simeon laid a hand on one of the five large sacks that took most of the room in the cart. “These were taken six days ago by Ya’abin. He attacked a small caravan near the ford below Jericho. Two merchants were killed and three Roman escorts.” Simeon pulled the top of one sack open, lifted a handful of the small chunks of hardened resin, and let them trickle through his fingers. “Incense is going for three hundred shekels a bag last we heard.”
Marcus said nothing, but he too picked up a handful of the aromatic and put it up to his nose. Incense was neither as beautiful nor as valuable as gold or silver, but it came in a close third. Ground as a powder and burned, it produced a powerful fragrance, which in the Jewish religion was called “a sweet savor to the Lord.” Many other religions also used it as part of their ceremonies. It was also used to make perfumes and scented body oils. Taken from trees far to the south on the Arabian Sea, the sap or gum was dried, then shipped north up the King’s Highway. It was a highly lucrative trade and therefore a strong temptation to men like Moshe Ya’abin.
Marcus let the crystals fall back into the bag and brushed his hands off on his tunic. Five full bags was no small thing. Pilate would be pleased. But he let none of that show on his face. “What else?” he demanded.
Simeon stepped around to the back of the cart and lowered the gate. There was a large, ornately carved wooden chest. He heard Sextus draw in a sharp breath. “From the customs house?” the centurion asked.
Simeon nodded. “That’s our assumption. We didn’t stop long enough to ask for details.”
Sextus moved forward and lifted the lid. Gold coins gleamed brightly in the dappled sunlight beneath the trees. He looked at Marcus. “This fits the description of the box stolen from the customs station near Jerash about two weeks ago. We had a garrison just ten minutes away, so we thought it was safe. Ya’abin came in broad daylight and was gone again before an alarm could be sounded.”
“Six of your men dead is what we heard,” Yehuda said without expression, which Sextus confirmed with a nod.
Marcus moved forward and fingered some of the coins.
“It’s just under a talent,” Simeon said.
Marcus was impressed in spite of himself. This recouped two major losses and would represent a significant setback for their foe. It wasn’t Ya’abin himself, but these were results you could measure.
Simeon moved around to the other side of the cart, reached over the side, and brought up a large leather pouch. There was a soft metallic rattle as he held it up. “We found this under the head of Ya’abin’s chief captain. It is about two hundred shekels, probably taken as ransom.” He shook it softly. “We’ve used almost all of the fund Mordechai set up for us. We can either keep this, or you can take it and have Mordechai put some more on account for us.”
“Sextus tells me you’ve used the fund mostly to bribe the local shepherds.”
“Bribe?” He felt his hackles rise a little. “They would be offended to hear you use that word. We’ve used it to restore things Ya’abin stole from them, to repair things his men destroyed. We call it ‘a friendship offering.’ But those were not the only expenditures. My men also have to eat.”
Marcus ignored the tone. He was thinking. If Pilate knew about this bag, he would likely demand the money, but Pilate didn’t know, and Mordechai was in Rome. Getting the fund replenished would take time. It said much that Simeon had produced the bag and given Marcus the choice of what to do. They could have kept it and said nothing. “Keep it,” he said with a dismissive wave. “If you need more, let me know.”
“We will.”
Marcus looked inside the cart. “Anything more?”
“Back in the trees.” Simeon looked at Sextus. “You may want to bring your men up now.”
The centurion turned and walked swiftly away. In a moment they heard him barking commands. As the group approached the entrance to the monument, Marcus stopped. In the deep shadows, stood a man with a bow. His eyes darted to the right. And there was another.
“Issachar!” Simeon called. “Barak! Bring them out.”
The two men stepped forward, and Marcus saw they had ropes in their other hands. In a moment, they led a chain of men out from behind the trees. As they did so, Sextus came trotting up with the eight soldiers. He stopped in surprise. “More captives?”
Yehuda gave an impudent laugh. “Strangest thing. These eight were supposed to be on guard duty, but we found them sleeping. Actually, we’re doing them a favor. Ya’abin is renowned for his sh
ort temper.”
Sextus gave a command, and his men moved forward to take the ropes from the two bowman.
“Take the cart and the donkey,” Simeon said. “We’ll get them from you later.” Sextus gave another command, and one of the soldiers turned toward the cart. In a moment the legionnaires were moving through the trees with the prisoners and the cart in tow. Issachar and Barak melted away again, leaving the four men alone.
Sextus turned to Simeon with open admiration. “That’s sixteen prisoners you’ve taken now.”
“So far,” he acknowledged. “Word is that more have deserted.”
“Ten more,” Sextus confirmed. “And our source expects that to go up. He says that Ya’abin’s men are truly frightened.”
That was good. The Romans had paid informants in many of the towns and villages. Their information would be very reliable. “If that’s true, then he’s lost almost a quarter of his force now. I assume you’ll make it known that these eight are in your hands too?”
“Of course,” Sextus said. “That word will be on the streets before sundown.” He looked at his commander. “It’s common gossip that Ya’abin’s group has been cursed, that they are haunted by evil demons. He’s having trouble getting new men to join him.”
“The gossip is true.” Yehuda’s face was deadpan. “I think we may have actually seen one or two of those demons ourselves, haven’t we, Simeon.”
Simeon smiled briefly, but he was watching Marcus. “Satisfied?”
Marcus was watching his men and the prisoners move out into the sunlight where they stopped to wait for the two officers. “And how many men do you have?”
“Twenty-one,” Simeon answered.
In one part of Marcus’s mind, he was impressed. He had arrived in Jerusalem ready to give these two an ultimatum. He was tired of the months of set up with nothing to show for it, and so was Pilate. Mingling with the wandering tribesmen to build their trust might be clever, but it proved nothing—though Marcus was fair-minded enough to admit that the Roman approach the previous summer had gotten them nowhere either. Sixteen prisoners. Ten desertions. And now valuable goods recovered. It wasn’t Ya’abin, but it was something tangible he could share with the governor.
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