The Book of Longings(68)

I raised the hem of my tunic and fanned the ink dry, then tied the letter in a piece of undyed flax. When I entered the courtyard, Judas was already at the gate. “Brother, wait!” I ran toward him. “Would you sneak away without saying goodbye?”

He offered me a guilty look. “I couldn’t risk you doing what I believe you’re about to do this moment. What’s inside the cloth?”

“Did you think I would do nothing? It’s a letter of warning to Phasaelis.” I thrust it at him. “You must deliver it for me.”

He put up his hands, refusing to take it. “You heard me say I’m traveling to Tiberias, but I won’t venture into the city itself and certainly nowhere near the palace. We plan to intercept the caravan of grain and wine outside the city.”

“Her life is at stake. How can you not care?”

“I care about the lives of my men more.” He turned toward the gate. “I’m sorry.”

I grabbed his arm and shoved the package toward him once again. “I know you can find a way to avoid the soldiers in Tiberias. You bragged yourself that none of you have ever been caught.”

He was taller than either Jesus or I, and he gazed over the top of my head toward the olive tree, where Yaltha, Jesus, and the others sat eating, as if hoping one of them would come and rescue him. Glancing back, I saw Jesus gazing at us, letting me have this moment alone with my brother.

“You’re right,” Judas said. “We can avoid the soldiers, but you haven’t thought this through. If your letter is found and you are identified as the sender, you would be in danger. Did you sign your name to the letter?”

I nodded. I didn’t bother to inform him that even without my signature, Antipas and my father would likely guess the sender. Had I not stolen the ivory sheet while they looked on?

“I need you to do this for me, Judas. I sat for Antipas’s mosaic in order to gain your freedom. Surely you can do this much for me.”

He threw back his head and let out a groan of resignation. “Give me the letter. I’ll put it in Lavi’s hands and ask him to see that it’s smuggled to her.”



* * *



? ? ?

JESUS WAITED FOR ME in our room. He’d lit not one but two lamps. Light and shadow flitted about his shoulders. “Am I right that Judas is carrying your warning to Phasaelis?”

I nodded.

“It’s dangerous, Ana.”

“Judas said so as well, but don’t admonish me. I couldn’t abandon her.”

“I won’t reproach you for trying to help a friend. But I fear you’ve acted impulsively. There might have been another way.”

Overcome with exhaustion, I stared at him, feeling hurt by his reproach. I could feel something mounting in me, too, that had nothing to do with Phasaelis, some excruciating need I couldn’t comprehend. I swayed a little on my feet.

“It has been a day of suffering for you,” he said, and the words opened a ravine of sadness in me. My eyes glazed, a sob creeping up the back of my throat.

He opened his arms. “Come here, Ana.”

I laid my head against the rough weave of his tunic. “Mother is dead,” I said, and I wept for her. For all that could have been.





xxii.


That fall, before the feast of Succoth, Jesus came home with news that a man from Ein Karem was baptizing people in the Jordan River. They called him John the Immerser.

Throughout the evening meal, Jesus did not cease speaking about this man who was wandering around in the Judean desert wearing a loincloth and eating roasted locusts and honey. To my mind, this didn’t suggest a particularly alluring figure.

The entire family was sitting beside the cook fire in the courtyard as Jesus described the sensation the prophet was causing: great hosts of people flocking into the desert east of Jerusalem, so impassioned they waded into the river shouting and singing and afterward gave away their cloaks and sandals. “I met two men near Cana who heard him preach firsthand,” Jesus said. “He urges people to repent and turn to God before it’s too late. They say he condemns Antipas for his disregard of the Torah.”

He was met with silent stares.

I asked, “When John immerses people in the river, does it mean the same as entering the mikvah?”

Jesus let his gaze rest on me. He smiled at my effort. “According to them, it represents a far more radical cleansing than the mikvah. John’s immersion is an act of repentance, a turning away from one’s sins.”

The hush returned, even more smothering. Jesus squatted before the fire. I watched the reflection of the embers flick in his eyes and felt how incendiary our lives seemed right then. He looked very alone, almost lonely. I tried again. “This John the Immerser—does he believe that the apocalypse is upon us?”

There wasn’t one of us who didn’t know what the apocalypse meant. It would be a great catastrophe and a great ecstasy. The men spoke of it at synagogue, parsing the prophecies of Isaiah, Daniel, and Malachi. When it came, God would establish his kingdom on earth. Governments would crumble. Rome would be overthrown. Herod removed. Corrupt religious leaders driven out. The two Messiahs would appear, the kingly one from the line of David and the priestly one from the line of Aaron, who together would oversee the coming of God’s kingdom.