“Maybe so,” Hannah laughed. She picked up her yogurt container and ate a couple of spoonfuls before saying, “Another law requires every woman to take a ritual bath a week after her monthly period ends. That’s what Bathsheba was doing. Remember how some of the neighborhoods we saw in Jerusalem had houses that were built on the hillsides, looking down on top of each other? Evidently Bathsheba’s mikveh was visible from King David’s rooftop. Look up that Scripture passage sometime. It says that she had just purified herself from her uncleanness. In other words, the author wanted us to know that Bathsheba’s monthly period was over, her husband was away at war, and so the baby had to be David’s.”
Abby was still thinking about King David’s adultery when it was time to return to work. Against her will, she was also thinking about Mark. When she saw how all the young college girls flocked around Ari at the site every day, supposedly asking questions about archaeology, it made her furious. Ari was friendly but not flirtatious, and it angered her that the girls would flirt so shamelessly with a married man. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, but then neither did Marwan or the hotel manager, Moshe Richman. Maybe wedding rings weren’t customary for men in Israel. But Abby’s husband, Mark, had always worn one, and it hadn’t stopped Lindsey Cook from her pursuit.
Abby was chipping at the hard-packed dirt, trying to work out her anger, when Ari climbed down into the pit beside her. “You are within centimeters of first-century floor level,” he said. “You must please dig very carefully.”
“Do you think there might be a mosaic floor under all this dirt?”
Ari couldn’t disguise his boyish excitement. “I am hoping there is. I will come back and join you myself as soon as I finish documenting the weapons we found in the mikveh.”
A few minutes later, Abby’s petesh struck something hard. She laid it aside and began carefully sweeping the dirt away with a small whisk broom. Her heart beat like a trotting horse. Even under a two-thousand-year-old layer of dust, the brilliance of the tiny colored stones shone through. She swept faster, quickly uncovering a foot-long section of border, fashioned like rolling ocean waves in shades of green and blue and white.
“Look at that!” Marwan said as he returned with his wheelbarrow. He jumped down into the pit to help her, carefully scooping the dirt she was loosening into the bucket with his hands.
When Abby saw that the border continued along the edge of the wall, she changed direction, sweeping toward the middle of the room. After cleaning another small section, she found herself staring at a fish—a cleverly fashioned gold and gray and green fish, with fins so graceful it seemed to swim. But it was what she found above the fish that took Abby’s breath away—five Greek letters. She had seen them before, along with a fish, on the bumper sticker her daughter had pasted onto her car. They were Christian symbols.
“I think we’d better send for Hannah,” she told Marwan. She was breathless, afraid to take her eyes off her discovery, afraid it would disappear if she did.
Ari and Hannah arrived at the same time. They looked down at the mosaic, then at each other, and something as powerful as a bolt of lightning seemed to pass between them. Abby didn’t see who moved first—they might have moved simultaneously—but suddenly Ari and Hannah were in each other’s arms. She couldn’t see Hannah’s face, but Ari’s eyes were closed as he battled his emotions.
“You have to be the one to publish this, Ari!” Hannah said. “You have to be!” Then they parted, the moment passed, and Hannah celebrated by climbing down to hug Abby and Marwan and everyone else in sight, while Ari began snapping dozens of photos of the mosaic.
“This Greek word, ichthys, means fish,” Hannah explained to the gathering students. Her voice was thick with emotion. “It was one of the symbols used by the early Christian church. It’s an acronym for ‘Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior.’ Do you have any idea what that means? We know Degania was a Jewish village. Yet some of the people who lived here were among the earliest Christians!”
Every available volunteer was put to work with Abby and Ari, uncovering the mosaic. Just before quitting time, a student working on another corner of the floor found Hebrew writing.
“It’s a name,” Ari said after examining it. “Reuben son of Johanan. He was probably the person who commissioned the floor.”
“Ari, does that name seem familiar to you?” Hannah asked.
He thought for a moment. “Sorry . . . but no.”
“I’m positive that I’ve seen it somewhere before. Of course, I realize that Reuben and Johanan are fairly common names, but that combination . . . it seems so familiar . . .”
“Do you remember from where?” Ari asked. “A history book? Another dig?”
“I don’t know.”
As Abby rode back to the hotel in one of the vans, Hannah was deep in thought. Ari leaned forward from the seat behind them and tapped Hannah on the shoulder.
“Are you still thinking about the name on that inscription?” he asked with a wry grin.
“Yes. I know I’ve seen it somewhere before. It’s going to drive me crazy until I figure out where!”
Ari nudged Abby, still grinning. “We’ll have to fetch her for meals from now on, or she will forget to eat.”
THE VILLAGE OF DEGANIA—A.D. 52
What’s that strange sound?” Elizabeth asked.
Leah frowned as she tucked the bedcovers around the child, certain that the four-year-old’s imagination was helping her find an excuse to avoid taking a nap. “I don’t hear anything,” she began, but then Leah did hear it—a sound like water rushing down a dry riverbed. Even as she listened, it grew louder, closer. “Lie down, Elizabeth,” she said. “I’ll go see.”
She met Miriam and Ehud in the central courtyard, hurrying toward the main door of the villa along with several other servants. The concern on their faces made her afraid. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“One of the Christian brethren just ran here to warn us—there’s a mob headed this way and it’s out of control. We have to bar the door.” But when they reached it, Leah’s brother Gideon was swinging it wide open, instead.
“Gideon! What are you doing?”
“Giving us a chance for freedom!”
“No! Not this way!” She tried to wrestle with him but he was too strong. “Help me, Ehud!” she cried. The mob outside was just a few hundred yards away. Unable to pull Gideon back inside, the only solution was for her and Ehud to push him all the way through the doorway. Then the other servants quickly closed and barred it from the inside, leaving the three of them stranded outside on the steps.
“God help us,” Ehud murmured as the crowd rushed toward them.
Many of the men brandished swords or clubs. Leah saw a few familiar faces among them, but most of the men were strangers to Degania. She was afraid they would trample over the three of them in their rush to break down the door, but Ehud held up his hands.
“Stop! Wait . . . please!” Their momentum miraculously halted. “What do you want here?” he asked.
Although Ehud was brawny from his years of heavy labor and his sun-weathered face was forbidding to strangers, Leah knew the servant had a gentle heart and an eagerness to serve his new master, Yeshua the Messiah. He would probably be no match for the mob’s leader, a savage-looking man with wild, unkempt hair and a coarse woolen tunic.
“Hand over our enemy!” the stranger cried, brandishing a sword. “The Romans are God’s enemies, and so is anyone who works for them!”
“No one in this household works for the Romans except Master Reuben,” Ehud said quietly, “and he left for Jerusalem two weeks ago to celebrate the Feast of Tabernacles. You’ll find only Jewish slaves and bond servants in this house.”
“Is that true, Gideon?” the leader asked, turning to him.
Leah wondered how the stranger knew her brother’s name.
Gideon nodded reluctantly. “Yes, it’s true.”
Ehud descended the stairs, stepping past the burly leader to bow
to one of the village elders, a Pharisee. “Reb Nahum, I’m surprised to see you here. Would you tell me, please, what’s going on?”
“The Samaritans attacked and killed a Jewish man,” Nahum said, “a fellow Galilean who was passing through their district on his way to the feast.”
“But what does that have to do with Reuben ben Johanan?”
“The Roman procurator will give us no justice,” Nahum said. “These men think Reb Reuben would make a valuable bargaining chip.”
“I’m surprised that a man of your integrity and devotion to the Law would permit such an evil as kidnapping to occur in our village,” Ehud said. “After all, Master Reuben is also a fellow Jew—although not a Pharisee.”
Reb Nahum looked uncomfortable. He scanned the crowd as if searching for another elder to back him up.
“Who are these men?” Ehud asked, gesturing to the leader, who seemed impatient with the delay.
“We are followers of the One True God,” the leader shouted. He leaped up the steps to stand between Leah and Gideon.
He smelled like a wild animal’s den, as if he hadn’t bathed in a long time. But with the mob in front of her and the door barred behind her, Leah had no choice but to remain beside him. She shivered from cold and fear. The fall rains had begun, and she had come outside without a shawl.
“God alone should rule over the Jewish people,” the man shouted. “The Torah says, ‘Him only shall ye serve.’ That means only cowards pay tribute to Rome. Only unbelievers tolerate mortal masters instead of recognizing God as their Lord. In the spirit of our ancestors, the Maccabees, I say, ‘Let everyone who is zealous for the Law and who supports the covenant come out with me!’ It’s time for a holy war!”
A deafening shout went up from the mob as they waved their clubs and swords in the air. Leah unconsciously shrank back against the door. She had heard of this savage band of freedom fighters, the so-called Zealots. Their zeal for God had led them to foolishly take up arms against the Romans.
“This is the land God promised our ancestors,” the Zealot leader shouted when the roar finally died away. “There is no room in it for anyone else. We must pay homage to no one but God. Why should our taxes support an emperor who considers himself a god? Why must we pay to erect statues to pagan gods and to build pagan temples? Why should we help the Gentiles live their immoral life-style, which contradicts the Laws of God? Remember the zeal of Aaron’s grandson Phi-neas who put the idolaters to the sword. It’s time to drive the pagans out of our land!”
Another huge cheer went up from the crowd. Leah was alarmed to hear her brother shouting, “Death is better than slavery!” as he waved his fist in the air.
Ehud turned and slowly ascended the stairs again, stopping one step below the leader and bowing slightly. Only Leah, Gideon, and the Zealot leader could hear Ehud’s words above the din.
“Since Master Reuben isn’t home, my lord, there is really no reason for you to terrorize your fellow Jews who are only his humble servants. The master keeps no silver or gold here, and while his household furnishings are valuable, they would be of no use to you, I’m afraid.”
Ehud’s humble words and gentle manner were meant to diffuse the Zealot leader’s wrath, but Leah could see that he had worked himself and the crowd into a frenzy, and he needed an outlet for his energy. She feared for Elizabeth and prayed that no one would remind the leader that Reuben ben Johanan had a daughter.
“Very well,” the Zealot said with a growl, “if we can’t have the Roman collaborator, we will settle for the next best thing—the supplies in his storehouses!”
Ehud looked alarmed. “Should someone as zealous for the Law as you, my lord, resort to stealing, like a common thief or a tax collector?”
At these words, the Zealot lost his temper. He grabbed Ehud by the front of his tunic with one hand and raised his sword with the other. “It would not be stealing if a fellow patriot decided to contribute to our cause, would it?”
Ehud wisely backed down. “No, my lord.”
The leader finally released Ehud and turned to Leah’s brother, resting his hand on his shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. “Gideon, you’ll show us to your master’s storehouses, won’t you?”
“This way!” Gideon shouted.
Leah watched, appalled, as her brother gleefully led the mob around the building to the master’s storehouses in the rear of the villa. “Oh, God, forgive him,” she murmured as she huddled beside Ehud on the front steps.
She saw the damage the mob had made after they finally dispersed. The Zealots had broken through the gate into the servants’ courtyard and had not only raided the storehouses, but had also taken several of the master’s mules to help haul away his goods. Leah went to the servants’ quarters in search of her brother and found Ehud already there with him. As steward over Master Reuben’s household, Ehud would be held responsible for any losses during their master’s absence. But in spite of the rage and the anguish she saw on Ehud’s face, his voice was surprisingly gentle.
“Why, Gideon? Why would you betray our master like this? How has he ever harmed you or wronged you?”
“He made my father into his debtor! He forced Abba to sell my sister and me like . . . like animals!”
“Has it never occurred to you that Master Reuben could have sold you and Leah to another master, anywhere in the Roman Empire, to reclaim that debt? What did he need with two more servants, two more mouths to feed? Can’t you see it was his kindness that allowed you to remain in Degania, to serve him here for seven years?” Leah herself had never thought of that fact, and it astounded her. Gideon seemed unmoved.
“Is this how you repay our master’s kindness?” Ehud asked.
“God created us to be free,” Gideon said. “If Reuben ben Johanan were a true Jew, he would gladly empty his storehouses to the men who are going to drive out the Romans and reclaim our freedom.”
Ehud shook his head sadly. “It isn’t an absence of shackles that makes men free—it is forgiveness. We are free to worship God only when we’ve found forgiveness for our sins. And we are free from the power of our enemies only when we forgive them.”
“How can we forgive the Romans for desecrating our land?” Gideon shouted. “It’s intolerable to have any ruler but God!”
“The Son of God said, ‘Father, forgive them,’ as the Romans crucified Him. He knew that violence and hatred weren’t the way to bring the Kingdom of God into this world. It’s our fallen nature that needs to be redeemed, not this land. What good will it do to deliver Israel from one tyrant when the next one will surely follow? The sons of King David and even the sons of the Maccabees eventually became tyrants, remember? Only God’s grace and forgiveness can change man’s nature. Only a changed nature will make us free.”
“You’re talking gibberish,” Gideon mumbled.
“One of the Messiah’s followers was a Zealot,” Ehud continued. “Another was a tax collector. They should have been bitter enemies, but they became brothers. Yeshua said love your enemies. He said if the Roman soldiers force you to walk one mile, walk two. God’s grace, not violence, changes people. The prophets said that all the nations of the world would one day come to seek Him in Jerusalem when His Kingdom is established. Do you think they will come to learn from us if we have no love? If all that we show the world is laws and rules and hatred?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, old man,” Gideon said.
Leah saw that his heart was as firmly closed and barred as the front door of the villa had been. “Gideon, listen—” she began.
“No! I don’t listen to traitors, even if one of them is my own sister!”
Gideon pushed past both of them and stormed from the room. He didn’t return for dinner, nor was he found anywhere in the villa when it was time to bar the doors for the night. The band of Zealots had also disappeared from Degania, and Leah lay awake all night praying for her brother, terrified that he had run away with them. Under Roman law, a slave who stole fr
om his master and ran away would be executed.
When Master Reuben returned from Jerusalem, Leah begged Ehud to allow her to help explain what had happened with the Zealots and with Gideon. She wanted to plead with the master for mercy. She followed the two men as they toured the ravaged storehouses and empty stalls, wondering how to interpret Master Reuben’s cold silence as he surveyed his losses.
“My lord,” Ehud finished, “I didn’t have your authority to send word to the Roman garrison to pursue them. But I will leave immediately to summon them if that’s what you wish.”
Leah looked up at Ehud, confused by his offer to send for the Romans. Hadn’t he begged Gideon to choose forgiveness, not revenge, just a short time ago? Why wasn’t he urging the master to do the same?
Reuben stared into space with the same vacant look Leah remembered seeing on his face after Mistress Ruth died. Fearing for her brother’s life, Leah dropped to her knees before him on the dusty floor of the storehouse.
“My lord, I beg you to have mercy on Gideon. I’ll serve another seven years to pay his debt—or for the rest of my life if that’s what you wish. But please don’t send the soldiers after him. Please!”
Reuben looked down at Leah. She met his gaze, even though she knew that a servant shouldn’t look at her master in such a direct way. Compassion flickered briefly in his eyes before he looked away.
“Let the boy go,” he told Ehud.
Leah clutched her master’s ankles to kiss his feet. “Oh, thank you—” But Master Reuben grabbed her by the arm, jerking her to her feet.
“Don’t!” he said coldly. “Bow to no one but God.” Then he turned and strode away.
CHAPTER 12
THE VILLAGE OF DEGANIA—A.D.53
See, Abba? Leah taught me the first two letters of my name.”
Leah watched as Elizabeth proudly handed the writing board to her father, showing him what she had learned. From where she sat, Leah could see the master’s face, see his love and delight in his daughter. Even though Elizabeth was no longer a baby, Leah still stayed in the reception hall each evening while the child spent time with her father. Master Reuben had never asked Leah to leave, so she quietly sat to one side, enjoying her time in his presence as much as Elizabeth did.