Jerusalem's Hope (12 page)

At the closing of his door she glanced up and smiled at him. “Good morning, Reb Nakdimon. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” he lied, not telling her that his sleep had been filled with visions of her.

It was near evening on the third day of their journey when Emet, Avel, and Ha-or Tov reached the outskirts of Beth-lehem. The boys were tired from the long hike up from the ford of the Jordan near Jericho. Emet's feet were again raw and bloody.

Avel had set the rapid pace. Since their destination was in sight he now seemed willing to rest. “Ready to eat?”

Emet put a grubby hand to his empty stomach in reply. Hunger tore fiercely at his insides. “Please.”

Ha-or Tov grumbled. “About time, I'd say.”

Avel made for a large flat boulder where they could scan the horizon for the tower and finish the last of their barley loaves.

It was, Emet thought as they divided their supper, a kind of celebration. They had made their pilgrimage safely, and they would find the man they sought at Migdal Eder. They would give him Yeshua's message. Zadok would be their protector until Yeshua came for them.

“What does a tower look like?” Ha-or Tov queried.

“Tall and round like the trunk of a giant hollow tree. Made of stone.”

Emet breathed a sigh of relief as he ate his meager supper and studied the landscape below them.

Beth-lehem,
“the House of Bread,” was appropriately named. The town was made of neat, whitewashed little dwellings with domed roofs that resembled loaves of unbaked dough on a baker's slab. The village had once been the home of Ruth, Boaz, Obed, Jesse, and David. It was surrounded by rich fields of winter wheat and threshing floors, like the one where Ruth had first spoken to Boaz, her kinsman redeemer.

Along the more precipitous slopes were terraced vineyards and almond orchards. Vast flocks of sheep grazed on the stubble of recent grain harvested in the valley nearby.

It was Avel who first spotted the Tower of the Flock. “There. Look there! Migdal Eder.”

At the center of the pasture was the round stone structure. It was from this watchtower that Temple shepherds tended thousands of sheep purchased with sacred Korban money. These were the animals destined for sacrifice at the high altar in Jerusalem. All firstborn male lambs born in Beth-lehem within the vicinity of the Tower of Migdal Eder were set apart as offerings to the Most High.

The earth undulated like the surface of the Sea of Galilee.

“Sheep?” Ha-or Tov asked.

Emet nodded. He had never seen this many creatures in one place. “Thousands.”

“Almost Passover,” Avel explained. “Every day they'll take some of them from here to Yerushalayim for sacrifice.”

Ha-or Tov gestured past the herd toward an enormous castle high on a hill beyond Beth-lehem. “But what's that?”

Avel explained, “Herodium. The fortress of the old dead king. The butcher king. They say it has ghosts. Haunted by the spirits of people he murdered. Demons dance on the walls, they say. Also, there are gardens and ponds where you can sail a boat. Marble and ivory on the floors, they say. A Roman garrison stays there. And the men who work on Pilate's aqueduct.”

“I wouldn't sleep in such a place.” Ha-or Tov's eyes grew wide, as if he was contemplating a night with devils dancing on the walls. “And I wouldn't want to be one of the traitors building Rome's aqueduct, either! It's cursed. I heard the rebels say it! It's cursed of God.”

Emet could see the elevated arches of the aqueduct, which would carry water northward to Jerusalem when it was completed.

Compared to Roman building projects and the glowering palace of Herodium, Migdal Eder appeared insignificant.

Emet stared at the heights of Herodium. A chill coursed through him. It was an evil place, casting a long shadow over the peaceful valley of the sheepfold.

Avel wiped his mouth nervously on the back of his hand. Had he also sensed the darkness? He leapt to his feet. “Finish your bread,” he ordered Emet and Ha-or Tov. “It'll be night soon. There's more than a mile to go. We stayed too long.”

Twilight pursued the boys down the slopes and into the Valley of the Sheepfold. From high atop the tower a shofar blared a signal that resounded across the swale.

Rousing, as if it recognized the meaning, the flock began to stir. The smell of dung grew strong as the animals were brought in from their pastures for the night. The racket of bleating drowned out other sounds. Dust choked the air.

As Emet, Avel, and Ha-or Tov approached Migdal Eder on a path between two pastures, Emet could see that vast acres extended out of sight. The near fields were divided by stone walls the height of a man's hip.

Pregnant ewes, sides bulging with imminent birthing, were nearest the Tower of Migdal Eder. Fat, woolly mothers with tiny, newborn lambs inhabited the next ring of pastures.

There were lambing stables built into caves along the limestone cliffs, stocks for shearing and castrating, and sheds for bales of wool. Beyond these was pasture for recently weaned lambs and fields where the ewes grazed freely with a ram picked for qualities to breed the finest offspring.

On the other side of the tower were holding pens to fatten the unblemished male lambs. There they awaited the journey up the road to Jerusalem.

Overseeing the sheep-rearing operation was an army of weather-hardened herdsmen. Crooked staffs in hand, they were accompanied by fierce-looking, sharp-fanged dogs. To Emet, the canine assistants looked as if they were merely one step removed from wolves, yet they trotted attentively at the sides of their masters. Commands were issued to them in the language of whistles, which instantly sent dogs to circle the herds and nip at the heels of reluctant sheep.

“Get up! Up! Up, I say! Return! Return! Return!” came the call from the tower, echoed throughout the valley by the throats of scores of shepherds.

Why had the Master sent the boys here? Emet wondered. And how, in this bustle, would they find the man named
Zadok?

Avel, more confident than the other two, led the way. He had a strange smile on his lips, Emet noted. Avel marched toward Migdal Eder like someone coming home after a long journey.

Migdal Eder loomed five stories high. It had one door, and above the second story windows were set around at regular intervals.

Emet raised his face as a figure moved on the rooftop and leaned slightly over the parapet. A white-haired shepherd raised a shofar to his lips and issued one short, sharp note. This was followed by a series of calls, like a warning, and concluded with another clipped, emphatic blast. The signal reverberated in the hills as the gates of each sheepfold slid into place for the night.

After spending the day in further discussions with El'azar, Nakdimon finally arrived at the gates of Jerusalem that night. He hired a pair of link boys to lead him home with their blazing torches.

Business was good, they told him when he asked. The country bumpkins in town for
pesach
needed guides to take them from one place to another. Yes, the Jerusalem Sparrows were enjoying a boom in business.

Nakdimon ventured, “Do you know a Sparrow named Avel?”

The two exchanged wary looks. “He's long gone.”

“What happened to him?”

“Went to find the Messiah and kill Romans, last we heard.”

“Who is the Messiah?” Nakdimon tested.

“Does it matter? As long as he sets Yerushalayim free. Kills our enemies! Everyone's looking for him to come this Holy Day. We'll join him and fight with Avel.”

“A daunting task for one so young.”

“He'll grow up. We'll grow up. Messiah will lead us, and then they'd better watch out!”

This was the sentiment on the streets. Remembering Avel and the poverty of the Sparrows, Nakdimon paid them twice the set fee for a link and sent them away.

At the sound of Nakdimon's voice, Zacharias, the elderly Ethiopian servant, threw back the gate and cried like a baby as Nakdimon entered.

“Oh, Master Nakdimon! We heard you'd been hurt! I told herself it was a rumor, but just the same we were worried! The children looked for you to come each day! Your uncle Gamaliel sent your servant Eli to the Galil yesterday to seek you. I suppose since you're here, he'll come back without you. The whole world is boiling like a stew. Not a time for a man to be away from his family. Your dear mother has been . . .”

“Nakdimon!” Nakdimon's mother, wrapped in bedclothes, scurried into the courtyard. She scolded, “Where have you been?”

He embraced her, kissed her cheek. “How are the girls?”

“All six of them . . . in need of a mother.”

“And little Samuel?”

“In need of a mother.”

“Well, Em, I've come home empty-handed this time. Nothing in my satchel could remotely pass for a female. A grandmother will have to do for a while longer, I suppose.” An image of Miryam flitted through his mind. But no. Not Miryam either. Not unless they closed the Yerushalayim house and moved to Gaul.

Em patted his cheek. “You need a bath, son.” She flicked her fingers, sending Zacharias off to deposit the donkey in the stable and heat water for Nakdimon. “Are you hungry?”

“I ate today at the house of El'azar in Bethany.”

Her eyebrows went up.“Stopped at that house, did you? Poor tragedy.”

“They traveled with me to the Galil to hear the Rabbi of Nazareth. They're not the same since.”

She was dismissive. “You can't easily erase such misfortune and shame. It lingers like the smell of . . .” She paused, sniffed, and frowned. “Nakdimon! You'll wake the dead. Go wash and change your clothes. I'll fetch a bite of supper. A little wine. You can tell me all about it. Good?”

At Migdal Eder men converged on the tower from all directions. Their charges temporarily stowed away for the night, it was time for a quick meal.