Текст книги "The Divining"

Автор книги: Barbara Wood

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Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

39

I DO WISH YOU WOULD come with us, Rachel dear," the shepherd's wife said. They were the last family to leave the oasis, having decided to take their small flock of sheep to Jericho, where they believed they would be safe from impending war.

     With the increasing presence of Roman military in the past weeks, there was no longer any doubt that fighting was going to break out.

     "Thank you, Mina," Rachel said, "but I will stay."

     As Mina picked up a stray lamb and held it to her ample bosom, she said, "We will miss you. We so enjoyed your stories. Everyone did. What a delight you were to travelers who rested here. I believe you so captivated them that they stayed longer than they normally would have."

     Rachel had enjoyed telling stories to the people who lived at the oasis, as she had told them to a girl named Ulrika years ago. Rachel spun inspirational tales of faith and heroism to an attentive audience of shepherds, date farmers, wheelwrights, and travelers who rested at the oasis.

     "You shouldn't be alone," Mina said, as her husband gestured impatiently to her. They needed to reach Jericho by nightfall. "Now that Almah is gone, God rest her."

     "I will be all right," Rachel said. "This war will pass and people will come back to the oasis. Go in peace."

     PRIMO SQUINTED UP AT the sky and saw, over the stark Judean cliffs, vultures circling.

     She is hiding in there. The woman named Rachel.

     He said nothing to his companions, who were surveying the deserted oasis where, just days ago, several families had lived. Primo had decided that in order to save his master from committing treason by rescuing the widow of an executed criminal, he needed to find her first. When he did, he would kill her, and tell no one. And they could continue on to Rome with Sebastianus in the clear.

     "Rachel and I came here once a week to fetch water and to bathe," Ulrika said, as she looked at the pond that was fed fresh water from an artesian spring. Its surface reflected the surrounding palm and olive trees, and the clear blue sky. "We would visit with the people here, and get the latest news from travelers passing by." She traipsed over the dead grass where tents had been staked. "They don't appear to have been gone long."

     "They left in a hurry," Sebastianus observed, suspecting the reason why. Roman troops had been marching through the valley for weeks, to take residence at the nearby hilltop garrison at Masada. "Do you suppose Rachel went with them?"

     Keeping his eye on the vultures, and determining the landmarks over which they circled, Primo said, "My men and I will search the area. Maybe she is simply hiding."

     He reined in his horse and steered it toward craggy cliffs broken into thousands of wadis, canyons, gorges, and defiles. As his eyes scanned the afternoon landscape, he thought about the strange twists and turns of fate. His master should be on a ship bound for Rome at the moment, not venturing deep into a politically volatile region on a treasonous quest! Primo knew now that they had not come to rescue a husband and wife, simply the wife.

     They had left Babylon in haste, before the High Priest could change his mind and decide to make martyrs of Judah's followers. While the Gallus caravan had continued westward along the main trade route under the care of Timonides, Sebastianus and Ulrika had followed a southerly road with Primo, six soldiers, and a handful of slaves. The men rode horses while Ulrika rode a camel that had been fitted with a padded saddle for her comfort. They had traveled swiftly and constantly, stopping only to eat and rest, in a hurry to reach Judea before revolt broke out.

     Looking up at the vultures, Primo noted which way their scrawny necks swiveled, the specific spot they seemed to be eyeing. He guided his mare into a rocky defile. Silence hung heavy in these narrow canyons, the only sound being the sharp clip-clop of his horse's hooves. As he inspected a series of small limestone caves, he heard a sound—pebbles avalanching down a rocky incline, as if someone had slipped. Dismounting, he continued on foot into the narrow wadi that grew so tight he had to go in sideways. Steep rocky walls blocked out the sunlight so that the way was dark with just a wedge of blue sky overhead. Primo's sturdy hobnailed sandals crunched over the small rocks littering the canyon floor. He paused to listen, his soldier's instinct telling him that something alive was hiding nearby—a large animal or a person—watching, holding its breath, ready to spring.

     He stepped carefully, inspecting every crack and crevice in the canyon walls. When he took another step, he heard a gasp, and another cascade of pebbles. He looked into a crevasse and saw a dark shape huddled there.

     Primo smiled. He had found Rachel.

     "WILL YOU BE ABLE to find the grave?" Sebastianus asked. "After all, it's been nine years."

     Removing the blue veil from her head and settling it around her shoulders, Ulrika turned in a slow circle as she tried to recall landmarks from her brief stay here. The dun-colored landscape looked unforgiving and lifeless. Already, the spring flowers had withered and dried up. In the distance, she saw the pale blue ribbon of water that was the sea of salt into which the River Jordan emptied. "I will find it," she said.

     Sebastianus scanned the desolate landscape, the flat valley and steep cliffs dotted with caves, and then brought his eyes back to his wife. Beautiful, strong, determined. How he loved and admired her! How she had used her spiritual gift at Daniel's Castle to save all those people.

     After everyone had gotten down safely in the tunnels Ulrika had discovered, Sebastianus had pushed the stone back into place and then he had gone to confront the High Priest and explain that the citizens had dispersed and wished in no way to offend Marduk. The High Priest had watched Sebastianus with a keen eye and had asked but one question, "Do you intend to stay long in Babylon?"

     "I leave for Rome in the morning."

     The High Priest had swept his eyes over the scene, with its unoccupied tents, scattered bits of food, sputtering oil lamps—evidence of the recent and hasty departure of a large crowd. "Marduk watches over all," he said. "He hopes his people will return to the temple and the beneficence of his supreme power. Safe traveling, Sebastianus Gallus."

     To Sebastianus's amazement, the priests and temple guards had turned and headed solemnly back in the direction of Babylon. Sebastianus realized what had happened. The priests were not going to make martyrs of Judah's followers, because it would give the followers public sympathy.

     Sebastianus wondered if Judah's memory would survive. Although Ulrika had urged everyone to remember him, people would always need temples and idols and priests. He thought of the ancient altar in his homeland, in a place the Romans called Finisterre—"the end of the world." An ancestress named Gaia had built the altar many centuries ago, and there had been a time, Sebastianus was told, when people had come from all over to pay homage at the altar. From as far away as Gaul and the Rhineland, it was said, pilgrims would follow ancient routes in order to pray at the scallop-shell altar. But bandits and brigands had taken to lying in wait for the defenseless wayfarers, to rob them and even kill them, so that pilgrimages to the scallop-shell altar eventually stopped and Gaia's altar was forgotten.

     Would the same happen in Babylon? Would the priests, like those long-ago bandits, succeed in frightening worshippers into abandoning Rabbi Judah?

     PRIMO DREW HIS SWORD and raised it to deliver a swift death blow. But the woman rose to her feet, drew the veil back from her gray hair, and said softly, "I pray, noble sir, go in peace. I am not an enemy of Rome."

     Suddenly, the Judean wilderness vanished and the years rolled back. Primo was in that small village in Galilee once again, surrounded by angry men determined to tear him apart. It was not her face he recognized, but her voice, the accent of her dialect, the very words she used.

     He gasped. It was not she—not that young mother of the village long ago. But so very like her ...

     Primo froze, suddenly held by two beseeching eyes, dark and liquid. A strand of hair escaped her veil and fluttered across her cheek. A memory from long ago fluttered across his mind, like that strand of hair: his mother, drawing a comb through her rich tresses, while her son Fidus watched. She was crying. Her shoulders were freshly bruised. The comb was made of wood, some of the teeth were missing. Fidus wished he could buy her an ivory comb. He wished he could kill the men who used her.

     His body shook—not then, when he was nine years old, but now, in the Judean wilderness—as a truth came to him. His mother had done what she needed to survive, as this woman named Rachel was doing. His mother, uneducated, without family, giving her little boy a dog's name, not knowing, in her naïveté, the life of cruelty it would bring to him.

     She had loved him in her way, and he had worshipped her in return.

     Primo nearly cried out as he felt the years roll away, the aches and pains leaving his joints, making him feel robust and virile again. He left the rat-infested room he had shared with his mother and came forward to the springtime of his life, when a young woman had interceded on a stranger's behalf. And now the memory of that kind gesture—combined with a fresh new tenderness for his mother—began to melt the stone wall that guarded his heart. Because of his ugliness and how women reacted to it, Primo had always thought he could never be loved. But the sight of this soft-spoken woman, and how she reminded him of a mother's love long ago, made him realize he had been wrong.

     In an instant, his whole life came into question. His military career. Perhaps it is easier to blindly follow orders than to question them. It was easier to betray a master than a Caesar. Easier to hate women than to yearn for their love.

     He lowered his sword.

     "We are here to rescue you, if you are Rachel, the widow of Jacob."

     "Rescue!"

     "A woman named Ulrika, and her husband, myself, and a few soldiers."

     Rachel frowned. "Ulrika? That name is familiar. Yes, I remember. Years ago, a young woman stayed with me for a while. Her name was Ulrika."

     Primo nodded. "That is the one."

     Her eyes widened. "She is here?"

     "We have come to take you to a safe place."

     "A safe place ..."

     "You have nothing to fear from me," Primo said, sheathing his sword in its scabbard, feeling his throat constrict with emotion. He held out his hand. "I swear by the sacred blood of Mithras, dear lady, that I will let no harm come to you."

     They found Ulrika and Sebastianus in a nearby canyon, and the two women embraced in a tearful reunion. They took Rachel to the campfire Sebastianus's slaves had built, and gave her some water, bread, and dates, which she ate delicately despite the fact that it was obvious she was very hungry. Questions flew: "Did you reach Babylon?"

     "Why did you not go with the families when they left the oasis?"

     "How can you stay here now, all alone, with Almah gone?"

     Finally, as shadows crept across the valley and all questions were answered, Ulrika told Rachel about her focused meditation, the answers that came to her in Shalamandar, her search for the Venerable Ones. She told her about Miriam and Judah, and the miracle at Daniel's Castle. "I believe your husband Jacob is a Venerable One, and his remains must be protected."

     "How?"

     "I suggest," Sebastianus interjected, "that you come to Rome with us."

     "I cannot go to Rome. We must be here when the master returns. And it will be soon, for Yeshua promised he would come back in our lifetime. This is why I did not leave with the others."

     Ulrika said, "Many of your faith are now in Rome. Miriam told me of a man named Simon Peter, whom she knew in Galilee, and she said he is there, as head of the congregation in Rome. We will take you to him."

     Rachel's eyes grew big. "Simon is in Rome? I will think about this and pray for guidance."

     PRIMO COULD NOT SLEEP.

     Rolling onto his back, he looked up at the stars and saw by the position of the moon that dawn was near. He threw off his blanket and rose to his feet. The others slept on in silence—Sebastianus and Ulrika in their tent, Rachel in a tent she shared with no one, the slaves and soldiers under the stars.

     Primo looked out at the cold and barren desert, and realized he had changed. He was no longer the man he had been hours earlier.

     Rachel. So like that village mother of long ago ...

     The oasis had several ponds. At sunset, Rachel and Ulrika had bathed in one behind protective screening. As Primo had stood guard with his back to the women, he had heard the soft whispering of water, delicate splashes, gentle trickles, and he had imagined the feminine skin and curves down which the water cascaded. In that moment Primo had understood why Sebastianus had acted the way he had all these months. He was simply a man in love.

     Primo strode across the cold sand to the place where Rachel had said her husband was buried. The grave was unmarked. Ulrika had convinced Rachel that her husband's remains were no longer safe here but would be protected by the congregation in Rome.

     As a chill breeze blew through his thinning hair, Primo thought about his report to Quintus Publius, which the imperial courier would deliver to Emperor Nero long before they themselves reached Rome. Nero would want to know about the witch who had cast evil spells on Sebastianus. He would be particularly interested in the treasure Primo had mentioned. Nero would most likely be anticipating the legendary secret hoard of gold supposedly spirited away from the Temple in Jerusalem before it was destroyed by Babylonians.

     Caesar had become obsessed with money. When their small party had stopped at oases and caravanserais, they had heard stories of the emperor's increasing instability and irrational behavior. He trumped up charges of treason against men of wealth, had them executed so he could seize their estates.

     When he reads my report, Primo thought, he will think that I am bringing fabulous treasure to him. Instead, they are the bones of an executed criminal. He will have the bones destroyed. I cannot allow that to happen. Rachel gave up her life to protect them.

     Primo drew in a deep, sharp breath and felt his heart come to life. It expanded in his chest like a bird expanding its wings until his heart was normal-sized again, beating with passion, full of life and feeling. Suddenly Primo no longer saw the world in black and white but in shades and hues of all the colors of the rainbow. Because Primo, who had lived his life by a code of honor and duty, now knew that there was a higher duty than that to master and emperor—a duty to love.

     ULRIKA WOKE SUDDENLY WITH a vision: a papyrus document rolled up and sealed with red wax. Primo affixing his ring to the wax.

     He is the one I sensed as the betrayer in Sebastianus's midst.

     Slipping into her cloak, she went into the cold pre-dawn in search of him, and found Primo sitting at the campfire, staring into black coals.

     "I had a vision of you back in Antioch," she said. "I saw you betraying Sebastianus. And yet you did not."

     He looked at her with the eyes of a man who had not slept. In a voice curiously soft for so rugged a man, he told Ulrika an amazing tale of oaths and emperors, spies and secret reports—and when he was done she thought for a long moment, taking in the deformed nose and scarred face, and said, "You are a man of honor, Primo, and also one of great strength. You have been burdened with a moral dilemma since the day we left Rome, and you kept it to yourself. I believe now that what I saw in that vision back in Antioch was not a traitor but a man who feared he would betray his own loyalties. I misjudged you."

     "And I, you," he said softly. "From the moment I first met you, I thought you were going to bring harm to my master. But I know now that you have in fact been good for him, that you helped him to tap his own strength. We should have been friends, all this time. I am sorry now that we were not."

     "I, too," she said with a smile. "And now we must tell Sebastianus the truth about Nero."

     Ulrika roused the slaves, ordering them to build a fire. Then she woke Sebastianus, who immediately threw on his cloak and stepped out into the biting air. Wakened by voices, Rachel looked out and, seeing her companions gathering at the fire, wrapped herself in her cloak and joined them.

     "Noble Gallus," Primo began, startling Sebastianus with such formality, making him wonder what extraordinary confession they were about to hear. "I have always been loyal to you, but as a soldier I thought my first loyalty was to my emperor. I became caught between these two loyalties, and in my desperate attempt to serve both masters—that is, to satisfy Caesar and yet save you from charges of treason—I laid the blame on Ulrika and sent it in a report. I told Caesar that you are under a witch's spell."

     "A witch's spell!" Sebastianus said.

     "I accused Ulrika of being a witch."

     She stared at him in shock. And then her blood ran cold.

     In Rome, it was legal for a husband to force his wife to undergo abortion if he suspected the child was not his, or even if he did not want the child. But it was illegal for a woman to procure an abortion for any reason. And so such women sought the help of those who knew the secrets of ending conception. Midwives, wise women, female physicians, and herbalists were all suspected of being abortionists. When their deeds were found out, they were called witches and the punishment was death by stoning.

     Primo looked at Ulrika and said, "I am so sorry."

     "You had your reasons," she heard herself say, but she had suddenly gone numb with fear. Was that how her life was going to end? Before she was even thirty years old, tied to a post in the Great Circus, while gladiators hurled rocks at her until she was dead?

     "Master, we must take a ship to Alexandria," Primo said quickly, "and find a place that is beyond the emperor's reach. I will protect all of you, upon my oath as a soldier."

     But Sebastianus shook his head. "I must go to Rome to clear my name, my family's name. But you will take the women to Alexandria."

     Ulrika placed her hand on Sebastianus's and said, "I will not let you face Nero alone, my love. Besides, I must clear my name as well. It is not just for my sake, but for my mother's. Wherever she is in this world, she is an honorable healer whose reputation is unblemished. If her daughter is condemned for witchcraft, and executed, it could have disastrous consequences for her."

     Rachel then spoke up, saying, "And I have been in hiding long enough. It is time I joined my own kind. I will join the congregation under Simon Peter."

     Finally Sebastianus said to Primo, "Then save yourself, old friend, for now you are party to treason and you have broken your oath to Caesar." But even as he said it, Sebastianus knew Primo would return to Rome with them.

     As the first golden rays of dawn broke over the distant cliffs in the east, and the four at the campfire felt the promise of the day's warmth, each pondered the fate that awaited them in Rome.

BOOK NINE

ROME, 64 C.E.

40

THERE IT IS," Sebastianus said quietly as he scanned the vast caravan terminus. He counted twenty legionaries standing watch around his caravan—an elite cohort in shining breast-plates and red brushes on their helmets—not only guarding his tents and camels and goods from China, but on the lookout for the caravan's leader, he was certain, with orders to slap him in chains and drag him before the emperor.

     Stepping back behind the protection of the blacksmith's tent, from which sounds of clanging metal rose in the morning air, he said to Ulrika, "It appears the emperor has seized the caravan as well."

     As soon as they had arrived in Rome, they had gone to Sebastianus's villa and found guards surrounding it, with a sign on the main gate declaring it to be the property of the Senate and People of Rome. "We will have to assume that my friends are also being watched, in case I go to them for assistance."

     Ulrika felt a wave of emotions wash over her. It had been ten years since she was last in Rome, and the sight of the city brought back a rush of girlhood memories. She thought of old friends who would be married now, with children—Julia, Lucia, Servia.

     Behind those towering walls, in the warren of streets and lanes that covered Rome's hills, Ulrika had lived in a villa with her mother. There, she had learned about the Rhineland, had yearned to meet her father's people. But in that same villa, Ulrika had spoken harsh words to her mother and apologized in a letter that her mother had never read.

     Did my mother return to Rome? Is she here now?

     "What should we do?" she asked, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. They had yet to find Timonides.

     The caravanserai south of Rome was vast and noisy, with camels bellowing and donkeys braying, dogs running about on ground covered in sludgy manure and chopped straw. The air was choked with pungent smoke from cook fires, and from the stench of animals recently sodden with sweat. The whole encampment was a hubbub of industry and care, and surrounding it were Roman soldiers in brass and scarlet, standing watch to make sure no one touched the emperor's treasure.

     And then Ulrika did see a familiar face. "Timonides!" she cried.

     He had been coming from the direction of the southern gate, wringing his hands, his face filled with worry. Ulrika called out, glancing at the soldiers to make sure they had not heard. The old astrologer stopped and turned. His face broadened with joy as he came toward them at a trot.

     They embraced in the shadow of the blacksmith's tent, Timonides's cheeks wet with tears. "I never thought I would see you again, master," he sobbed on Sebastianus's chest. "It is so good to see you both."

     "You are well, old friend?" Sebastianus said, wiping his own tears away.

     "I am well, master, but I have been in hiding, waiting for your arrival. Nero is out of his mind with fury!"

     "But the caravan arrived intact, did it not?"

     "Yes, but too late for his taste. And he came in person to pick through everything here. Nothing pleased him."

     "But there are treasures in there!"

     "Not the sort Nero wants. They say he has a new passion—for gemstones! He carries an emerald and peers at the world through it. He needs money. You have heard of the terrible fire that destroyed much of the city. Rumors are that Nero himself set it so that he could clear room for new buildings. Master! You cannot go home. Soldiers are there to arrest you. I have come to the caravan terminus every day, hoping to find you before the soldiers did."

     "I know, old friend."

     Timonides's white eyebrows flew up. "You know about the charges of treason and witchcraft?"

     Sebastianus laid a hand on the old astrologer's shoulder. "It is a long story."

     Timonides turned to Ulrika. "While I have been awaiting your arrival, I have not been idle. I asked around and learned that a well-known healer-woman named Selene now lives in Ephesus, where she practices her arts."

     "You found my mother?" But Ulrika was not surprised. Selene had enjoyed a sterling reputation here in Rome. Word of her whereabouts would have made its way back to where she had been so loved.

     "You can write to her. I know where to send a letter."

     "Oh Timonides, this is wonderful news!"

     "But what of your journey to Judea?"

     Sebastianus told him of finding Rachel at the oasis near the sea of salt, where he and Primo had reverently moved Jacob's remains to the small cedar chest in which Rachel had kept her clothes. From there they had made their way to the coast to take a merchant ship across the Great Green, arriving at Brundisium a week ago, the first day of October. There they had purchased horses and carts and fresh supplies, and had struck out along the Via Appia, the highway that connected the main cities of Italia. Fifty miles south of Rome they parted ways with Primo and Rachel, believing that the two would be safer on their own, and Primo knew an old friend, a retired centurion he had served under, who would offer them safe haven at his hillside vineyard.

     "Where are you going to take the relics?" Timonides asked.

     "We had thought to a man named Simon Peter, a friend of Rachel's."

     Timonides shook his head. "Your friend Rachel is not safe here. I have heard of this Simon fellow. He leads a group of Jews who are waiting for the Messiah to come. As they are a closed and fanatical group, Nero has decided to blame them for the fire that destroyed much of the city. They have all been arrested and await execution in the arena."

     "How bad was the fire?" Ulrika asked.

     "Terrible! It happened three months ago, on the night of July the eighteenth, starting at the southeastern end of the Circus Maximus in shops selling flammable goods. The fire spread quickly and burned for over five days. Hundreds of houses and shops were reduced to cinders. Nero began rebuilding at once, but they are extravagant projects. He is building a splendid new residence for himself called the Golden House—a project certain to bankrupt the Treasury, as you might imagine by its name. Did you know that Nero has proclaimed himself a god? He is insisting that he be worshipped alongside Jupiter and Apollo. Come with me, master. I will take you and Ulrika to a safe place."

     Sebastianus turned to Ulrika, "Go with Timonides. Send word to Primo and Rachel. Italia is no longer safe for them."

     "What about you?"

     "I have an appointment with our emperor. Ulrika, you go with Timonides—"

     Ulrika shook her head. "I am going with you."

     Timonides spoke up: "Master, I will also go with you. You were led astray by my false horoscopes. If there are any charges of treason, they should be upon me. This is something I must do."

     "Very well, but we must find a way to get into the palace."

     "It is a madhouse, master. This is Nero's jubilee year. Emissaries have come from all over the empire to bring him gifts. You cannot even get near the Imperial Palace. Best to let one of those take you," Timonides said, flinging an arm in the direction of the Roman guard.

     But Sebastianus said, "I will not stand before Caesar in chains. And I especially will not have my wife paraded in chains. We are free citizens of Rome and deserve to be heard before we are found guilty." He rubbed the bronze stubble on his jaw. "The problem is how to get into the palace without risking arrest? For if we are arrested, we could languish in prison for days or even weeks before we are brought before Caesar and our case is heard. We need only get in the door. But how?"

     "Sebastianus," Ulrika said. "Primo told us that he said in his report to Nero you went to Judea to find hidden treasure. You need only appear at the entrance and give them your name. If Nero is truly desperate for money, he will have you brought into his presence at once."

     "But you have nothing to give him," Timonides protested. "I have seen the visitors arriving at the palace. They bring fantastic gifts for Caesar. You will not be allowed to enter empty-handed."

     Sebastianus smiled. "But I do have a gift for Caesar. A very rare and unique gift that only I can give."

     Timonides wrinkled his nose. "What might that be?"

     "You yourself gave me the idea, old friend, in something you just now said. But we must hurry."

     They went first to an inn, where they bathed and changed into clothes Timonides purchased for them in the marketplace—Sebastianus would not have Ulrika and himself arrive before the emperor in anything less than the finest garments. Ulrika wore a dress of several layers, all the shades of a sunrise, with a daffodil-colored veil that went from the crown of her head to her feet, and draped artfully over her right arm. Sebastianus donned a black knee-length tunic edged with gold embroidery, and a matching black toga draped over his broad shoulders and arms. Adding new sandals that laced up the calves, and expensive belts made from the softest kid leather, Sebastianus was satisfied that he and Ulrika made an elegant couple, aristocratic enough to pass the scrutiny of any palace steward or chamberlain. And now that Timonides had regained all health lost in China, and wore clean white robes that set off his handsome flowing white hair, he made for a fine servant to the patrician couple.

     Before they left the inn, Sebastianus took Ulrika's face in his hands and kissed her on the lips. "Whatever happens today, my love, remember that I will always love you. Wherever destiny takes us from this day forward, I will carry you forever in my heart. Now listen to me. Let me do the talking. Say nothing to Caesar. Do not try to defend yourself. I will find a way to exonerate you of the charge of witchcraft. Above all, do not divulge to Nero your gift, for he will want to keep you for himself. They say he has become obsessed with the gods and knowing the future. Ulrika, if he learns of your spiritual gift, you will be kept a prisoner in the palace, and Nero will torment you with his insanity. Promise me you will say nothing."

     "Sebastianus, what is your gift for Caesar? He has taken everything. We are left with nothing except the clothes we wear."

     "Do not fear, my love. From what I have learned of our emperor, it is something he will not be able to resist."