The Ironsmith (49 page)

Eleazar had her brought to his house, where she and her infant son were fed and washed. Then he listened to her recite, which she did for four hours, stopping only now and then for a sip of water. If she made a mistake, Eleazar did not catch it.

“Was your father a scholar?”

“No, my lord. He was a poor farmer.”

“Then how is it you can do this?”

“I just remember things.”

Finally he took down a scroll, a history of the Maccabees, which he was quite sure could not have been known to her, and read her a long passage, after which he invited her to recall what she could. She repeated it all faithfully.

But when he asked her a question about its content, she could not answer. Then he asked her, in Hebrew, “In what village were you born?” and again she could not answer.

Then he recited to her part of an oration of Isocrates he had memorized as a schoolboy, deliberately transposing the first two sentences. She repeated it, including the error.

She could reproduce faithfully anything she heard, even if she did not understand the tongue in which it was spoken. It was becoming clear to Eleazar that a woman possessing such a talent would not be without her uses.

That had been ten years ago. Eleazar took her into his household and had her trained as a housemaid, and he saw to it that her son was educated. Talitha was happy. To be a servant in a rich man's house was more than she had ever dreamed of. She had her son, and one day he would be a scribe. She worshipped her master and would have done anything he asked.

All that he ever did ask of her was to listen, and repeat what she heard.

In the present situation, since the Lady Michal was as unlettered as a sparrow and it would hardly have been prudent to meet her again, Talitha once again proved her worth. Servants go largely unnoticed. A lady may speak to her waiting woman without incurring the least suspicion.

The Lord Eleazar's house was only a short distance from the Tetrarch's palace. Servants were engaged and dismissed so frequently that no one thought anything of the fact that a woman they probably never noticed in one place was now working in another. Talitha passed back and forth a few times a day, a fact which would not strike anyone as remarkable, since her son was being trained by the Lord Eleazar's secretary.

It was like having a private window into Caleb's domestic life.

Eleazar rose from his desk. “Speak,” he said, and smiled encouragingly.

“I have a message for the Lord Eleazar,” Talitha said, in Aramaic—it was her voice, but it was the Lady Michal speaking, even down to the peculiarities of accent. And then, in Greek: “A man came to see Caleb. His name was Judah bar Isaac, and I thought he was crazy at first, but he was only very afraid. He said Caleb was God's instrument and God would destroy His prophet. What did he mean? I don't know.
Are you listening to me, you stupid sheep?
”

This last was again in Aramaic, and Talitha shouted the words, but without emotion. She seemed to be in a sort of trance.

She continued, in Greek. “But he brought his cousin for dinner, and they joked about arranging a triumphal entrance for the ‘Son of David.' His cousin is something in the Temple guard. The cousin, whose name is Gideon—I didn't like him—mentioned a Roman named Gaius.

“Caleb says he will win everything back. He is like a coiled spring. Whatever he is planning will happen, I gather, in the next few days.

“I am keeping to my bargain, my lord. I am betraying my husband. I am telling you what he says and does. I am holding nothing back. I beg you to be merciful to me.”

And then, once more in Aramaic, “Leave me. Go away.”

Talitha closed her eyes and then opened them again and smiled.

“Have I done well, my lord?” she asked.

“You have done very well. The Lady Michal has bad manners, but I ask you to be patient with her.”

He reached into his purse and took out three silver coins and held them out to her. She took them and then kissed his hand.

“When did she tell you all this?” he asked.

“This morning, not an hour ago.”

“And is there a stranger in the house? One who seems a little mad?”

“There was. He saw the Lord Caleb and then left, around noon yesterday.”

“Go now, and spend time with your son. He misses you. You will soon be back in my household.”

She bowed and withdrew, leaving the Lord Eleazar to ponder all she had told him.

Since first discovering the identity of Caleb's mysterious prisoner, he had learned a great deal about Judah bar Isaac, including the interesting fact of his relationship with his tormenter. Had Caleb chosen him, at least in part, as an act of revenge against his family? It was not unimaginable.

Judah, the Lord Eleazar now knew, had been a disappointment to his father, a man of strict principles who occupied a position of importance in Levite society. At nineteen Judah had been involved in some scrape, the details of which were unclear but which involved his relationship with certain young gentile wastrels living in the city, and his father had seized on this to banish him to Tiberias, where he had lived a comfortable and amusing life.

His involvement with John the Baptist was difficult to explain. Perhaps he saw the emptiness of the life he was leading. Perhaps, by being baptized, he felt he had reentered the community of the godly. It was impossible to know. Perhaps it was merely an impulse.

Now he seemed torn. He spoke of Joshua bar Joseph as God's prophet and of Caleb as His instrument. The one inspired devotion and the other fear. His allegiance was divided between them and, whichever triumphed, the consequences for him would be dreadful.

Then there was the problem of what to do.

Eleazar found himself almost wishing he knew nothing of the matter. He considered warning Noah of the peril in which his cousin stood. After all, he owed the man. And Joshua was, apparently, innocent.

But what then? What would be gained by unraveling Caleb's carefully constructed plot? The man thought he had hit upon the perfect stratagem to regain his position, while in fact he was busily destroying himself. One peasant preacher seemed a small price to pay for relieving Galilee of such a monster.

Eleazar did not want innocent blood on his hands, but how many more would die if Caleb succeeded? And were
they
not innocent?

It was an unpleasant choice, but unpleasant choices were the business of government. Not to choose was to fail in one's duty. Not to choose was cowardice.

Therefore, he decided, the wisest course was to let events unfold as they would.

 

42

The pilgrimage routes within two days' walk of Jerusalem were clogged, and the villages along the way were hard pressed to accommodate so many people. Every night, the floors of every room were covered with sleeping mats, while the poor slept on roofs or pitched tents in the open. Food was expensive and sometimes not available at any price, so most carried their provisions with them. Occasionally—inevitably—there were arguments, some boiling over into violence, but the mood of the crowds was generally hopeful and joyous. After all, the Passover was a feast of deliverance.

Noah's party included six: himself and Deborah, Sarah and Abijah, who had only been married a week, Deborah's servant Hannah, and Noah's apprentice Hiram, who had begged to come, principally to be near Hannah, who flirted with him and teased him without mercy.

They had spent the night in a village not two hours' walk from Jerusalem, and might end by spending another night there, because Joshua and his party were late.

It was inconvenient. In Jerusalem they would be staying in the home of a relative, where there was privacy, but a man with any pretentions to decency could hardly go into his wife while twenty other people were sleeping around them. Four nights of this was enough.

Surprisingly, it seemed hardest on Sarah, who complained pitifully to Deborah and sometimes cried.

“What can be the matter with her?” Noah had asked, genuinely worried.

“Don't concern yourself,” his wife replied. “It is a problem which will solve itself the first night we spend in your cousin Baruch's house.”

When this answer did not seem to satisfy him, she could only smile and shake her head, implying her disbelief that he could be so stupid.

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, ‘oh, that.' She misses being with her husband, as I do.”

“I never would have suspected Sarah of having so sensual a nature.”

“She is only just a bride. It is too early. They would have done better to stay at home.”

“Abijah would not miss a Passover in Jerusalem.”

“Nevertheless, Joshua had better arrive today, lest both your sister and I greet him with a shower of stones.”

In this answer, Noah discovered yet another reason to be pleased with his wife.

It was just after noon when Joshua finally did appear, leading about fifteen people. The first thing Noah observed was that Judah was not among them.

“I sent him ahead to make arrangements for our arrival,” Joshua announced. “He knows the city better than any of us.”

“No doubt.”

For a moment Joshua seemed not to understand, and then he raised his hand in a dismissive gesture.

“You are too suspicious, Noah. This is not Galilee. We are beyond the Tetrarch's reach. Besides, there is nothing to fear from Judah. Although he may not yet know it himself, his heart belongs to God.”

“I have every confidence you are right. Now, may we go? My womenfolk are weary of traveling.”

Within five minutes they were on the road. Noah was walking arm in arm with his wife when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw that it was Matthias, whom he then introduced to Deborah.

“My dear, this is the man who, two weeks ago, wanted to kill me. But God has forgiven him, and so have I.”

Matthias looked abashed, and Noah was instantly ashamed of his jest.

“I have repented, Lady. The Lord has softened my heart.”

“I rejoice in it,” Deborah answered. “We are all friends here.” She took the huge man's hand in both of hers and kissed it.

“I am jealous,” Noah announced, and then everyone could laugh.

They walked on together, talking of trifles, and the change that two weeks had worked in Matthias was striking. He was relaxed and had even learned to smile. He seemed capable of happiness. For one, like Noah, who knew the horrifying story of his life, it was hard to believe this could be the same man.

Then he grew silent. He kept glancing from Noah to Deborah and back again. He seemed to be nerving himself up to say something, and it was possible to guess what.

“She knows about Judah,” Noah said quietly. “There is nothing I know that she does not.”

“I have not the Master's strength of faith,” Matthias said, shaking his head in self-reproach. “I fear Judah. I always see the Lord Caleb standing behind him.”

“Does he know of your association with Caleb?”

“No. None of them do. To them it is as if I was born the day the Master found me. They seem to think that to inquire further would be a discourtesy.”

“And has your life changed so much then?” Deborah asked.

“Yes. I can drink a cup of wine without wanting another. I can sleep at night without fearing my dreams. I feel remorse for the evil I have done, but I know forgiveness. I have submitted myself to God's will.”

“Which still leaves us with the problem of Judah,” Noah said. “I do not wish to appear cynical, but I share your misgivings.”

“It must be left in the Master's hands.”

A few minutes later, the Master joined them. He was in a festive mood.

“I wanted to apologize,” Joshua said, smiling broadly.

“For what?”

“For not staying with you this year. But I could not impose such a large party on your cousin. We will find other lodging. Yet we will all break the bread of the Passover together, as we always have, won't we?”

“I am sure Baruch won't mind a few extra guests,” Noah answered, as he quickly tried to calculate how much extra food and wine would be required to take care of Joshua's followers. “He loves to play the host.”

“I am very hopeful this Passover.” Joshua laid his hand on Noah's shoulder, who thought it likely Joshua hadn't heard a word. “I think we will see great wonders.”

The first of these was announced by a young man leading a colt. The colt was white and only just broken to the halter, and the swirling crowds of pilgrims, through which it was being led, made it skittish.

The colt held everyone's attention, and when the young man stopped before Joshua, the scene was witnessed by a multitude.

“You are he,” the young man announced. “You are Joshua of Nazareth.”

“Do you know me?” Joshua asked, perplexed. “Have we met?”

“No, but I was told I would know you when I saw you.”

He held out the lead rope, offering it to Joshua.

“The colt is yours. Ride it into the city.”

Instinctively, Joshua took the rope, and the young man melted into the crowd. Joshua hardly seemed to notice. He ran his hand along the colt's neck, speaking to it in a low voice, and instantly it began to grow calm. All his life, Joshua had had an affinity with animals, and now, as they stood together, colt and man seemed to have no attention except for each other.

“Well, why not?” Joshua said, smiling.

He took off his cloak and covered the colt's back with it. Then he climbed on. At first the colt tried to step away from the unaccustomed weight, but then seemed to accept it and grew quiet.

“I will enter the city like some great lord,” he said, and laughed. “Or at least a bandit, which is even more honorable.”

Noah found himself wondering who could have sent such a gift.

They were perhaps two hundred paces from the city gates when the tumult started.