Jerusalem's Hope (17 page)

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Authors: Brock Thoene

BOOK: Jerusalem's Hope
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“The dead king's palace,” Ha-or Tov murmured somberly. And then to Zadok, “Who was he?”
The shepherd raised his finger absently to the scar beneath his eyepatch. It was a long moment before he replied. “The man who built that banqueting house was supper for worms long ago, boy. Those who occupy it now will also be food for maggots. We're comforted by that. What was can't be changed, can it?”
“What would they do? Soldiers and such,” Ha-or Tov persisted. “I mean if someone was to go up there.”
“We tend the sheep here and mind our own business.” Zadok raised a warning finger. “Stay clear of that place is what I'm saying.” He dismissed Ha-or Tov's question, turned from the blatant display of Roman authority, and moved on, this time more slowly.
Emet glanced over his shoulder at the mountain where evil presided. He shuddered. Ghosts and devils danced on the walls. Avel had told him so. But whose ghosts? And how many devils? And did they ever swoop down upon Beth-lehem and take boys as prisoners? Emet wondered.
Nakdimon hurried to Gamaliel's Jerusalem home, located not far from his own in the southwest corner of the city. As always, the forecourt was crowded with people. Some sought Gamaliel's patronage in obtaining positions. Others were there because the learned man was also a magistrate who acted to settle civil disputes. One such case was in progress even as Nakdimon arrived. The clash appeared to concern a shipment of broken pottery.
Gamaliel acknowledged his nephew's entrance with a raised eyebrow and nod, but continued listening to the presentation of the defendant. At his elbow a young man Nakdimon recognized as one of Gamaliel's talmidim took notes.
While Nakdimon settled against one of the plastered wall panels painted to imitate green marble, Gamaliel delivered his verdict. The decision went in favor of the plaintiff, but stopped short of giving him all the relief he sought. The two men left grumbling and shaking their heads.
“Difficult judgment?” Nakdimon inquired.
“Not at all!” was the reply. “Both sides are unhappy. That means I handled it properly. Anytime either of the parties leaves entirely satisfied, then I'm the one who's been wronged. Completely one-sided guilt is a rarity in lawsuits, or have you forgotten everything I taught you?” Turning to his secretary, Gamaliel said, “Saul, dismiss the others. That's enough for today.”
Drawing up a wicker chair close to Gamaliel's own seat, Nakdimon didn't delay his recitation for any small talk. As soon as the secretary was out of the room Nakdimon said, “I've seen such amazing things! Do you remember how we sensed the divine fire from Yochanan the Baptizer? Well, Yeshua is the wind! He's a healer, a magnificent teacher, he sees into men's hearts and . . .” Nakdimon leaned forward. “He can raise the dead! I saw it myself. There are others I have asked to testify. El'azar of Bethany. His sisters. Marta and . . . Miryam, who has become a follower of Yeshua.”
“The harlot sister of El'azar? That
is
news.”
“But she's different. Changed and . . .”
“The council would as soon have her openly condemned. She will never do as a witness. Never.”
“What I can say is this: she's not the same. They are not the same family. Yeshua has made some . . . difference in them. How can I explain? He simply changes everything he comes near.”
Gamaliel gave no sign of astonishment, did not demand details from Nakdimon. Instead, with his elbows on the arms of his chair, he propped his chin on steepled fingers. “So you believe he's the Messiah?” he asked softly.
“I . . . ,” Nakdimon began, then stopped. “He does things no one else can do and knows things no one else can know. I won't ask you to believe unless you see for yourself, but . . .”
“But is it enough?” Gamaliel demanded. “There are rigorous tests that must be met before I will acknowledge a Messiah. Fail one and fail them all, agreed?”
“Agreed. But tell me quickly . . . there are rumors even in the Galil about the coming Passover. What's happening?”
“The Sanhedrin presses ahead with the aqueduct scheme, despite my efforts to caution them. Caiaphas and his faction attempt to justify the Korban use at every turn, but they know there'll be protests. When the population of Yerushalayim doubles for the festival, there'll be trouble. Caiaphas knows it, the Romans know it, and I know it. The question remaining is: ‘What form will it take?' Listen!” Gamaliel touched an index finger to his forehead. “The two matters are linked. If this Yeshua declares himself at the feast and takes up the Korban issue as his own cause, there will be rioting . . . and many will die.”
“But what if he really is the Holy One of Israel?” Nakdimon queried. “Then he would be right to take up sacrilege as his cause!”
“So you also have been reviewing the words of Dani'el,” Gamaliel noted. “Of course that's the whole point: could he truly be the Awaited One?”
“You said yourself the years allotted in Dani'el's prophecy have nearly ended,” Nakdimon pointed out.
“But what does ‘cut off ' mean? Caiaphas grows more frightened every day that the doom applies to him.” The learned Pharisee laughed. “He's taken to having his father-in-law attend council meetings and deferring to his opinion . . . as if the Almighty might be fooled into picking on the wrong
cohen hagadol!

Nakdimon chuckled too. Annas, Caiaphas' father-in-law, had been high priest years before and still insisted on being addressed by the title.
“Start at the beginning,” Gamaliel challenged. “List the requirements a Messiah must fill and tell me how the Nazarene fares.”
“He is of the tribe of Judah and the family line of David,” Nakdimon reported. “I'm satisfied of that. The prophet Isaiah says he'll be preceded by another voice . . . and Yochanan himself baptized Yeshua and acknowledged him as the Master. Isaiah also records that he'll perform miracles . . . which he clearly does, and be anointed by the
Ruach HaKodesh,
which Yeshua clearly is!”
Saul, Gamaliel's student, reentered the chamber and stood behind his chair. “But he violates Sabbath!” the young man protested. “He heals on the Sabbath, in direct contradiction of the Law! He eats with sinners and women! Notorious women!” By this, Nakdimon surmised the student referred to Miryam. “This Yeshua doesn't keep the laws of cleanliness! Such a one can never be the Anointed One! Never!”
“Nephew, meet my shy and tongue-tied student, Saul of Tarsus,” Gamaliel said dryly.
Unabashed, Saul continued, “What about this? Doesn't the prophet Micah say that Messiah will be born in Beth-lehem?”
Gamaliel quoted the reference,
“But you, Beth-lehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times.”
Saul interjected, “How could the Messiah be called a Galilean?”
Nakdimon was stumped. “I don't know,” he said. “His father was a carpenter in Nazareth until his death. His mother has recently moved from there.”
“There, you see?” Saul said triumphantly. “He's a fraud. A drunkard and a man who goes with whores.”
To the surprise of the younger men it was Gamaliel who held up a cautioning hand. “Not so fast,” he warned. “This Yeshua is about thirty years of age?”
“Thirty-two, I believe,” Nakdimon reported.
“And how old was he when he first began to teach publicly?”
“About thirty.”
“The same age as David when he became king.”
“He refused the crown that people tried to force on him.”
Gamaliel nodded. “It came to me in the night. The age is right. He
could
be the one. Simeon, my father, used to tell of a child brought into the Temple for dedication thirty-two years ago. My father believed he was the Deliverer. He spoke of it often. After that three foreign astronomers came to old Herod's palace here in Jerusalem. They told Herod they had seen a sign in the heavens announcing the birth of a king in Israel. Herod called the scholars to him. Father was among them. I remember what happened when Father showed him the prophecy of Micah.” Gamaliel reflected on that dim memory. “A slaughter. You can read it for yourself. All of it. It's recorded in the archives as one more fit of Herod's madness. But,” Gamaliel emphasized, “since that time those of us who know the prophecies and calculate the exact times haven't spoken openly about them to secular rulers. As in the days of Moses, the innocent are made to suffer when kings and princes of this world seek to stop the words of
Adonai-Elohim
from coming to pass. Make no assumptions! Learn all you can. This isn't a time to be on the wrong side! Let's speak more tomorrow!”
It was on the slope below Herodium, almost in the shadow of that fortress, that Marcus Longinus located the camp of the engineers. There he found Gaius Robb, chief of the surveying crew, examining a map of the region and matching charted features to their real counterparts.
The line of hills on which Herodium perched extended southward toward Hebron. These westward-facing heights intercepted the last of the Mediterranean moisture from wind-borne clouds. The escarpment divided the fertile plains of Judah from the Judean desert. Here rainfall effectively ended.
From the caravan routes crisscrossing Idumea to the south, to the town of Arimathea on the edge of Samaritan land to the north, Judea possessed no more than a dozen creeks. Water, though plentiful in the Jordan River Valley, could not escape the confines of that gorge to be useful for people living above it to the west.
Water was never abundant. Where it bubbled up and pooled, orchards prospered and stock fattened on the grazing; when it failed, so did the villages its life-giving properties had nourished.
Between Hebron and Herodium the convergence of two canyons formed a natural catch-basin to use as the headwaters for Pilate's planned aqueduct. From several springs in the area, as well as seasonal precipitation, water would be made to flow to Jerusalem. In order to have sufficient height for the precious fluid to reach the capital of the Jews, almost the entire length of the watercourse would have to be raised significantly above ground level. This elevated construction had to begin as soon as the channel emerged from the hilltop reservoir.
The intended route as laid out by Pilate's predecessor passed beneath Herodium and crossed the pastures of Beth-lehem. Beside Beth-lehem it joined Herod the Great's existing aqueduct at a place called
Solomon's Pools,
only a couple miles away.
“Hail, Centurion,” Robb greeted Marcus formally, then extended his hand in friendship. “What brings you to such an out-of-the-way place? Did the governor send you here to check up on me?”
Marcus smiled. Robb was a promising young officer previously attached to the Tenth Legion in Syria. Marcus had met him once in Damascus. Pilate must have bribed Vitellius to part with him. “Just the opposite,” Marcus declared. “Pilate sent me here to keep me out of trouble. How is the work progressing?”
“Well, I think,” Robb offered with a noncommittal flick of his fingers toward the chart. His green eyes sought Marcus' steady gaze. “Actually, I'm glad you're here. I . . . I do have concerns.”
Marcus knew Robb to be an intuitive mathematician with a practical bent. He was highly regarded by Vitellius for certain improvements in siege weapons, and he was equally at home designing defensive fortifications. Slightly built and scarcely more than five feet tall, the inventive engineer had boyish features that made him look even younger than his twenty-four years.
Right now those boyish features were troubled. Marcus waited for him to continue.

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