Read The Galilean Secret: A Novel Online
Authors: Evan Howard
The Galilean Secret: A Novel (10 page)
“I am a doctor.” Rachel’s tone struck Karim as assertive but controlled. She continued firmly but without yelling. “It’s my duty to help the injured. There was no need for your soldiers to fire on us.”
“The reason was the rock-throwing.” Ezra raised his voice. “We refuse to stand for that. The soldier said you took the Palestinian in your Jeep. True again?”
“I am an Israeli citizen.” Rachel sounded defiant. “I will associate with whomever I choose.”
Karim remained motionless in the darkness, nearly suffocating among the clothes, amazed at how Rachel was defending her rescue of him. He clung to the bar, his palms slippery with sweat, his throat dry as desert sand.
Ezra began to yell. “Don’t you understand how sensitive this is, Rachel? You are not just any woman. You are the sister of a commander in the Israel Defense Forces! Your actions reflect on me. Where did you take the Palestinian?”
A loud crack prevented Karim from hearing Rachel’s answer. He fell to the floor, pulling the bar down and burying himself under a pile of clothes. Nausea rose in his throat as he realized what had happened: the braces that held the bar had given way, and his weight had caused the shoe shelves to snap. He lay still, buried under the clothes, praying that Ezra and Rachel hadn’t heard the crash.
Footsteps clamored into the bedroom. The closet door opened. He attempted to stay hidden, but to no avail. Commander Ezra Sharett, in uniform, pulled the clothes off him, his penetrating dark eyes flashing beneath a thick head of straight black hair. Ezra seized and hoisted him to his feet. “Your only hope of staying out of jail is to surrender peacefully.”
Karim climbed out of the closet. Ezra grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him against the wall. “Do you have a permit to be in Jerusalem?” Ezra’s piercing gaze cut through Karim.
“I invited this man here!” Rachel latched on to her brother’s arm, trying to pull him away.
When Karim didn’t answer, Ezra let him go, shook off his sister and withdrew a cell phone from his pocket, all the while keeping his eyes on Karim.
He began to punch in numbers, but before the call went through, Rachel reached for the phone and interrupted him. “You have no right to barge in and attack my friend.”
Ezra narrowed his eyes at her. “I am enforcing the law, not breaking it. This Palestinian is here illegally and should be arrested.”
“None of this would have happened if your soldiers hadn’t fired on the protesters.”
Ezra flicked his hand dismissively. “When protesters harass soldiers, they have no choice.” He yanked the phone away, finished punching in the numbers and pressed the receiver to his ear.
Rachel grabbed his arm and tried to dislodge the phone. “I’m the one who brought him here illegally. If you arrest him, you’ll have to arrest me too.”
Ezra turned to keep her from wrenching the phone away a second time. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Rachel stopped interfering and stepped back. “All right, go ahead and make the call. When the police arrive, I’ll turn myself in.”
Karim watched her lips press together into a thin, determined line.
“But be ready to pay the price. Word will spread that Commander Ezra Sharett’s sister harbors fugitive Palestinians. You can forget about future promotions. Your hopes for military glory will be over.”
Ezra abruptly closed the phone and shoved it into his pocket. Turning to Karim, he said, “You’ve caused enough trouble for one day. I should have you arrested, but for my sister’s sake I’ll let you return to the West Bank.” He jabbed a finger into Karim’s chest. “But I’m warning you—stay away from her. If I ever catch you in Jerusalem again, I’ll have you shot on sight. Do you understand?”
“Every word.”
Ezra gave Rachel a withering glare and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
She took Karim’s arm and led him from the bedroom to the living room. “I apologize for my brother’s behavior. His zealotry has propelled him through the ranks of the IDF, but his wife divorced him in the process and he alienated his two kids. Please believe me—when I brought you here, I never expected Ezra to make a scene.”
“I appreciate your kindness, in spite of your brother’s threats.”
She pointed at the worn tan couch. “You need more rest, and it’s too late to drive you to Bethlehem. I suggest that you sleep here and I’ll take you wherever you want to go in the morning.”
Karim hesitated, staring at the couch and then glancing out the window behind it at the darkening sky, his leg and ankle throbbing. He couldn’t allow her to drive him to the Holy Angels Monastery. If she dropped him there, she would become suspicious and ask uncomfortable questions—questions that might expose where he was really from, who his father and brother were. Those questions would end the possibility of a deeper relationship with her.
When he was slow to respond, she said, “I risked my life for you in Bil’in, and I broke the law to bring you here. Isn’t that enough to win your trust?”
Her question stirred his conscience. He owed her his life, but he couldn’t let her drive him to the monastery—regardless of how much gratitude he felt or how attractive he found her. “You have already done so much for me. I can’t ask you to do more.”
Her dark eyes turned fiery. “Do you distrust me because I am a woman or because I am a Jew?”
He slumped into the couch, his bones feeling as though they were crushing to dust. He groped for an explanation to indicate that he appreciated her kindness and wanted to continue their relationship, but one that would prevent her from driving him to the monastery. He decided to ask Brother Gregory to pick him up at a safe location in East Jerusalem. Rachel wanted to meet the man who had translated the letter. This was Karim’s chance. He could avoid questions about where he was from, and he could also get Brother Gregory’s advice on how to handle this woman who knew about the Jesus letter.
He took a quick breath. “I’m ready for you to meet the friend I mentioned—tomorrow in East Jerusalem. He’s a Christian and understands the letter better than I do.”
“I have a lot of questions about the letter and about Judith of Jerusalem’s diary.” Rachel shifted her weight nervously. “There’s something about her and about what she did that’s familiar to me.”
Her words filled Karim with a mixture of emotions, from compassion to understanding to intense shame that his family was the cause of her loss. And yet his people had suffered losses too.
“Let’s hope it’s not too late for Israelis and Palestinians to find a better way.” She said goodnight and excused herself.
Karim used his cell phone to call Brother Gregory. Thankfully the monk agreed to meet them and to keep Karim’s family background confidential.
As he lay on the couch and stared into the darkness, Karim thought about Rachel’s words and tried to believe that peace was still possible. Treachery on both sides had destroyed it in the past. He hoped it wasn’t too late for forgiveness and trust to create a new future. Staring into the darkness, he imagined Rachel’s lovely face staring back. Tomorrow he would show her where that new future had already arrived.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Roman Times
AS HE ENTERED THE GREAT COURT OF THE TEMPLE, DISMAS DIDN’T KNOW HOW HE WOULD DO IT, BUT HE KNEW IT HAD TO BE DONE. No matter the cost to him. His skin felt clammy as the shouting of the moneychangers and the clanging of coins into metal bowls rang in his ears.
Caiaphas has turned the Temple into a crude marketplace. It must be cleansed and he must die.
Trembling with rage, Dismas entered the area known as the Colonnades with Barabbas and Gestas, Mattathias ben Gaddi and Simeon of Bethany.
With Passover two months away, the Temple was not yet full, but Dismas marveled at the sea of people flowing through the Court, their sweat glistening in the morning sun. He cringed at the dung-steeped odor of the cows, goats and sheep. This was his first visit to the Temple since Caiaphas had moved the marketplace to the Great Court from the Mount of Olives. He lowered his head and took small breaths through his mouth to guard against the stench.
The feverish money changing and bartering swirled around him chaotically. Repulsed but mesmerized, he watched a moment longer as the other men went ahead. He pondered how to convince the Zealots to cleanse the Temple and kill Caiaphas before attacking the Romans. If he opposed Barabbas’ plan to storm the Antonia Fortress, and insisted on cleansing the Temple first, he would have to force Judith to take sides, and she had already turned cold toward him.
He could lose her.
A wave of panic swept over him. Closing his eyes, he had to fight against the image of Judith’s lovely face that appeared in his mind—the large almond-shaped eyes, the petite nose and finely sculpted lips. In spite of her demands for more time and attention, he still loved her. But if forced to choose between keeping her happy and doing God’s will, he must choose the latter.
He took a breath and shuddered. Judith was young and didn’t fully understand the sacrifices of a Zealot, nor did she completely meet his needs. He hoped that this would change, that they would rekindle their earlier passion. But he would not betray the Zealot cause to do so. He balled his hands into fists as he hurried to catch up with the others.
A short, bald man, balancing a dove on each hand, approached him. “My birds are pure, without spot or blemish, as the law requires. How many would you like, sir?”
Dismas pushed him aside: they had come to Jerusalem to determine the strength of Pilate’s troops and to pray for the triumph of the Passover revolt, not to buy doves. The Lord had protected them the previous night as they spied on the Antonia Fortress. Dismas would not insult him now with such paltry offerings.
He caught up with his comrades at a curly-haired moneychanger’s table, and along with them, exchanged his unclean Roman coins for the half-shekels approved for Temple use. Having to pay the added tax galled him, so he decided to risk mentioning his assassination plan to Barabbas.
Dismas turned away from the table, pulled him aside and whispered, “Caiaphas has turned this holy place into a den of thieves, and he profits from the corruption. We must stop this before we attack the Antonia.”
Barabbas squeezed Dismas’ arm and kept his voice low. “The corruption isn’t the main problem. The Romans put Caiaphas in power, and nothing will change until we drive them out.”
Disappointed by Barabbas’ response, Dismas remained silent as he followed the others to purchase a goat and a calf for sacrifice. He told himself that Barabbas didn’t understand the urgency of the matter. Since Caiaphas had banished the Sanhedrin to the Mount of Olives, he was accountable to no one—and free to do the bidding of Judea’s brutal and profane governor, Pontius Pilate. Caiaphas even allowed Pilate to store the high priest’s vestments in the Antonia Fortress. During the sacred festivals, Israel’s spiritual leader donned his robes in the citadel of the pagans! Dismas approached the animal stalls, knowing what the Zealots must do. To ensure God’s blessing on the Passover revolt, they must purify the Temple first.
Barabbas and Gestas were now bartering with the merchants for the purchase of the goat and the calf. When they had agreed on a price, Barabbas held out a hand to each Zealot. Dismas contributed his money toward the cost and then followed the others into the Court of the Israelites, with Barabbas and Gestas carrying the animals.
Dismas hurried past hundreds of bustling pilgrims. Doubts heavier than the oxen being wrestled toward the altar assailed him. Why not go along with Barabbas? The Temple would be purified soon enough. Was the timing of it worth causing strife among the Zealots? Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe Judith was all he needed. But then he wrung his hands as he considered a harder question: Would Judith support him against Barabbas? Or would she use the conflict as an excuse to leave him?
Dismas eyed Barabbas from behind and noticed passersby admiring the Zealot leader’s towering height and powerful arms and chest. Barabbas handed the calf to the priests for slaughter. Gestas did the same with the goat. Dismas listened to the Levite choir and breathed in the scent of incense and roasting meat.
None of it consoled him—not even the sight of the towering altar or the majestic tapestry that covered the door of the Holy of Holies. He joined the congregation in the sanctuary and, along with them, raised his arms toward the heavens.
Oh God, what am I to do?
he prayed silently.
Should I hold my tongue and go into battle without your blessing? Or should I speak up and risk alienating the other Zealots and Judith?
He closed his eyes and blocked out every sound and smell.
I have sacrificed everything to serve you. Be gracious and give me a sign. Help me to do your will, and may your holy cause succeed.
Dismas remained silent and listened for any hint of response, but as the moments passed, nothing happened. The disappointment took his breath away. Standing at the holy altar, he felt as estranged from God as from his brother Gabriel. Then he opened his eyes.
There stood Caiaphas, on the top stair behind the altar, his eyes the color of burnished almonds, his shiny white hair flowing to his shoulders. He wore the high priest’s linen vestments of gold, scarlet and blue. Rotund from eating the best sacrifices of beef and lamb and from drinking rich Cypriot wine, Caiaphas oozed arrogance and privilege. The self-satisfied expression on his pear-shaped face turned Dismas’ stomach.
This man had corrupted the Temple. Now Dismas felt God’s presence in his soul. He heard no words, no specific command, but felt a spine-tingling presence ripple from his feet to his head. He glanced at the other Zealots and affirmed what he must do. No matter who opposed him, no matter what he risked losing, he must raise his voice against Barabbas’ plan. The revolt must begin at the Temple. If it didn’t, he would threaten to quit the Zealots, even if it meant leaving Judith.
D
ismas glanced at the late-afternoon sky, the scorching sun low on the horizon, and decided that he must first build support for his alternative plan before confronting Barabbas. An opportunity arose as the men began the steep descent to the Dead Sea. They dismounted their horses and walked, with Barabbas and Gestas in the lead. Dismas stayed behind with the hefty Simeon of Bethany and the slender, bowlegged Mattathias ben Gaddi.
He thought of Judith’s brother Reuben and of Eleazar dying by a Roman sword, his arms flailing in a futile attempt to protect himself. For their sakes he needed to convince the Zealots to accept his plan. He tightened his grip on the reins of his horse as he spoke to Mattathias. “Our spying reinforced my respect for Roman power, and I’m worried. No matter how many men we enlist, we can’t match the arms and skill of the Roman legions.”
Mattathias bristled. “We’ve always known that we will suffer losses, but they’re necessary. Each death is a victory of heroism over cowardice, and brings our freedom closer. The Romans must be badgered at every turn, made to fear our attacks. We can’t worry about how many of us die.”
Dismas frowned and hardened his tone. “But we’re facing the greatest army in the world. They could slaughter—”
Simeon didn’t let him finish. “God will fight with us, and with his help the Romans will be finished. The Lord will free us from them, as he freed Moses and his people from the Egyptians.”
Dismas stopped and wrapped the reins around his wrist in order to grab Mattathias and Simeon by the arms. “How do we know God is with us? The problem in Jerusalem is not just the Roman presence. It’s also the Temple. We have allowed Caiaphas to desecrate it by turning its courts into a marketplace. Before any revolt can succeed, the Temple must be purified and Caiaphas must be killed. Otherwise God will not bless us with victory.”
Simeon raised an eyebrow. “The Romans have police who patrol the Temple at all times. Anyone who causes trouble gets arrested immediately.”
Mattathias nodded his agreement. “Your plan is as risky as Barabbas’, Dismas. Anyone who tries to drive out the moneychangers will be stopped, and the Temple police will kill anyone who attempts to assassinate Caiaphas.”
Dismas started walking again. “I’ve considered the risks, but we have no choice: Only by purifying the Temple can we be sure of God’s blessing.”
After walking for a time in silence, Simeon said, “Even if you’re right, Dismas, it won’t be easy to change Barabbas’ mind. He’s a determined man.”
Dismas kept his voice low, glancing first at Simeon and then at Mattathias. “That’s why I need your support. My reasoning is sound; Barabbas’ is not. He thinks we can win our freedom through military means alone. But the deeper problems are religious and moral. If you will back me, I’ll raise the matter with him, and together we can convince him to alter his plan.”
Simeon glanced at Mattathias, and then both men paused, stepping away from Dismas to talk privately. When they were finished, Simeon turned to Dismas and said, “We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t willing to die for our freedom. Whether we fight first at the Antonia or at the Temple makes no difference to us. What does matter is unity within our ranks. Barabbas is our leader, and we must follow him. To permit division would cause chaos—we all would die. Only if you can convince Barabbas to cleanse the Temple first will we go along with you. If you can’t, we will remain with him.”
When Simeon finished speaking, he nudged Mattathias. The two of them quickened their pace, leaving Dismas to walk alone. He pondered the risk he planned to take and it staggered him. Barabbas might accuse him of disloyalty—or become angry and have him whipped, even banished. Dismas felt his stomach clench as the Dead Sea came into view. The incline steepened. He dug his sandals into the stones on the path and kept the horse tightly reined.
No matter what the outcome, he must present his plan to Barabbas. To attack the Antonia without first winning God’s blessing would be suicidal. He had no choice but to speak. He led his horse into the corral on the outskirts of the camp and caught a whiff of smoke from the fire. Haunted by Simeon’s words, he replaced the wooden beam that served as a gate and started into camp, rehearsing the speech he would give. He would have only one chance to make his case.
And he dared not fail.
