Wings of Refuge

  “Sweetie, go to sleep,” she said wearily. But as Hannah crawled beneath the covers of her own cot, she wished—not for the first time or the last—that Jake was alive to help her cope with their daughter.

  The following morning, Hannah decided to dig a few more test pits in the synagogue floor—not only to see what she could find, but to create enough of an obstacle course to discourage any future nighttime trysts among the volunteers. For some reason, the floor of the synagogue had never been paved two thousand years ago. She was wielding the pickax herself, hoping the vigorous labor would take her mind off her problems with Rachel, when she suddenly struck and shattered an earthenware jar, buried only a few centimeters beneath the surface. She sank to her knees for a closer look.

  “Someone bring me a petesh, quick!”

  Ari handed her one, and she swung the smaller pick carefully, clearing away the hard-packed soil. Her heart began to race with excitement when she peeled back the broken shards and saw that the jar held parchment documents, some with wax seals. Hannah knew even before she read them that they were the most important finds she had ever made.

  Ari was on his knees beside her, carefully sweeping away the loose dirt with a whisk broom. He stopped when he saw what was inside the jar. “Wow!” he breathed.

  Hannah looked up at him. His face seemed to shimmer through her tears. “Yeah. Wow.”

  CHAPTER 15

  THE VILLAGE OF DEGANIA—A.D. 66

  Do you know what day this is, Miriam?” Leah asked as she and the servant poured wine and prepared the basket of unleavened bread for the communion service.

  “Of course, my child. It’s the anniversary of your wedding to Master Reuben.”

  Leah paused to gaze at her beloved friend. Miriam’s hair was no longer gray but snowy white, her fingers gnarled from age and years of work.

  “I was remembering that it was the anniversary of his baptism, too,” Leah said.

  Neither of them wanted to say that it was also the night that sicarii assassins had murdered Reuben six years ago as he journeyed home from Caesarea.

  “How could the seven years that I was married to him fly by so fast,” Leah asked, “when these six years without him have plodded by so slowly?”

  Miriam didn’t answer. She simply hobbled over to Leah and wrapped her arms around her—as she had done on the very first day they’d met—and soothed her with her gentle humming.

  Leah’s grief had dulled over time but had never entirely disappeared, kept alive by the haunting knowledge that Reuben’s murderers had never been caught. One of the villagers had found his body after the Sabbath ended. Reuben lay slaughtered in the middle of the road a half mile from Degania. He’d had no Roman bodyguard, since he no longer worked for Rome, and his loyal servants had been murdered along with him as they tried to defend him. Then the assassins had brutally cut off Reuben’s finger to steal his ring. Leah had studied strangers’ hands for six years, searching for that ring, wondering what she would do when she found the man who wore it, the man who had killed her husband.

  She quickly dried her tears as the other believers began to arrive for the service. The little fellowship that met in the villa in Degania had grown to more than eighty people—so many that they could barely squeeze into the reception hall. But Leah knew it was probably the last time they would ever gather there for communion. Nathaniel had come to the village with disturbing news.

  “We’re meeting tonight to ask for the Lord’s guidance for our future,” he announced after everyone had arrived. “We have all watched the situation in our land grow steadily worse, especially since the new procurator, Gessius Florus, arrived from Rome.”

  Murmurs of outrage swept through the room at the mention of the hated procurator’s name.

  “A few weeks ago, Florus seized money from God’s treasury in the Temple,” Nathaniel continued. “Rioting broke out in Jerusalem with house-to-house fighting at times. It ended in countless crucifixions and the slaughter of more than 3,600 Jewish men, women, and children. The revolt that the Zealots have been clamoring for has finally begun.”

  Leah shuddered as a hushed silence fell over the room. She glanced at Elizabeth, seated beside her, and saw tears in her seventeen-year-old daughter’s eyes. Leah took her hand. Elizabeth was betrothed to one of the believers in their fellowship, a young man named Judah, the son of a Pharisee. Judah’s father had disinherited him for becoming a believer, forcing the young couple to wait to marry. Now the uncertain times threatened to postpone their marriage even longer.

  “The apostles believe that the time has come for the remaining believers to get out of the country,” Nathaniel said. “Listen to our Lord’s warning to us: ‘When you see Jerusalem being surrounded by armies, you will know that its desolation is near. Then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains, let those in the city get out, and let those in the country not enter the city. For this is the time of punishment in fulfillment of all that has been written. How dreadful it will be in those days for pregnant women and nursing mothers! There will be great distress in the land and wrath against this people. They will fall by the sword and will be taken as prisoners to all the nations. Jerusalem will be trampled on by the Gentiles until the times of the Gentiles are fulfilled.’”

  “What does that mean, Nathaniel?” Leah asked. “‘Until the times of the Gentiles are fulfilled’?”

  Nathaniel smiled, erasing the sorrow from his gentle round face for a brief moment. “An amazing thing has been taking place in recent days,” he said. “It began when the apostle Peter was sent by God to preach the Good News to a Gentile in Caesarea—a Roman centurion, of all people. The man, whose name is Cornelius, believed and was baptized.

  “After the persecution of believers began and we were scattered, we had more and more opportunities to spread the news to the Gentiles. Some of our brethren—Saul, Barnabus, and Silas—have been preaching throughout the Asian provinces. Many Jews have believed, but many more Gentiles have become believers. They received the Holy Spirit, just as we did at Pentecost.

  “You all know that two equal loaves of bread, the first fruits of our labors, are always presented to God at the Feast of Pentecost. I believe that it was God’s design to show us that the first fruits of His Kingdom would be shared equally by Jews and Gentiles. Now we must leave Jerusalem, but we know that wherever God sends us we will be taking the Gospel with us—until the time of the Gentiles is fulfilled.”

  “Have the armies surrounded the city as Yeshua said they would?” Ehud asked.

  “Not yet, but they’re coming,” Nathaniel replied. “Three Roman legions sent by Emperor Nero have landed at Acco. General Vespasian commands more than thirty thousand troops and support personnel. If he marches through Galilee, the village of Degania will be directly in his path. It’s time for us to pray for our Lord’s guidance.”

  The meeting went late into the night as the people prayed for one another and sought the Lord’s leading for each family. Leah’s entire household decided to flee the country with the main body of believers who would seek refuge in Antioch until it was safe to return. They would pack their belongings and leave together at dawn on the first day of the week. But in spite of Leah’s fervent prayers, she found no peace in that decision.

  When the prayer meeting ended, the fellowship in Degania broke bread together for the last time, remembering Yeshua’s words: “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.”

  Leah was taking down her hair in preparation for bed when she heard someone pounding on the front door. Had one of the brethren forgotten something? She decided to let the servants answer it and had just climbed into bed when Miriam came to her room, lamp in hand.

  “Who was at the door?” Leah asked.

  Tears filled the servant’s eyes. “Get dressed. You need to come. They’re Zealots.”

  A lump of dread plummeted to the bottom of Leah’s stomach as she quickly put her clothes back on and followed Miriam through the darke
ned house to the front door. She heard the clamor of men’s voices, dozens of them, before she even reached the central courtyard and saw the flickering shadows of torches on the walls. At least fifty strangers were swarming into her house, peering into her reception hall and the other rooms, piling their bedrolls and weapons in her courtyard. She could tell by their filthy clothes and rugged appearance that they were one of the roving gangs of Zealots. They held old Ehud captive, roughly pinning his arms behind his back.

  “What are you doing? Let him go!” she cried. At the sound of Leah’s voice, one of the Zealots whirled to face her. “Gideon!” she breathed when she saw his face. He was barely recognizable beneath layers of dirt, a thatch of unkempt hair, and a scruffy beard.

  “Leah?” he said in amazement. “Your servitude should have ended years ago! Why are you still here?” He roughly brushed her hair aside to see if she wore the earring of a bond servant in her ear. He seemed relieved to see that she didn’t.

  “Please, Gideon, tell them to let Ehud go,” she begged. Gideon signaled with a wave of his hand, and the man holding Ehud released him. The latent power she glimpsed in that simple gesture unnerved her. “Are you in command of these men?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  Leah studied his face, searching for a sign of the brother she once knew, then shrank back from the glint of savagery she now saw in Gideon’s eyes. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I happen to know that the tax collector is dead,” he said. “Since he no longer needs this house, I’ve decided to appropriate it for my headquarters.”

  There was a note of triumph in his voice that sent ice down Leah’s spine. She grabbed Gideon’s hands and searched them for Reuben’s ring. When she saw that they were bare, she dropped them again as if his touch would poison her.

  “Did you kill him?”

  He gave a lazy shrug. “What difference does it make to you who killed him? He was our enemy, Leah, a filthy Roman collaborator, and a—”

  “He was my husband!”

  Her words and the cold fury with which she spoke them silenced him. He stared at her for a long moment, then said, “That pig made you his concubine?”

  “No, Gideon. He made me his wife.”

  “You’re lying! Why would he marry you when he could have had you whenever he wanted?”

  “Because he loved me . . . and I loved him.”

  Gideon shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Ask Abba! Ask him about the dowry Reuben paid—twice the price Abba named! Abba told me it was my choice. He said he wouldn’t sell me to Reuben ben Johanan a second time, and I chose to marry him! Do you want to see the legal certificate the scribes wrote?”

  Leah could see that her words had shaken Gideon. But his stunned disbelief lasted only a moment before swiftly turning to rage. He drew back his hand and slapped Leah across the face.

  “How could you! How could you prostitute yourself with that man? Wasn’t it enough that he bought you the first time? Did you have to sell yourself to him a second time?”

  “I loved him,” she said as tears rolled down her stinging cheek. “Haven’t you ever loved someone?”

  He didn’t answer.

  The other Zealots had been searching the entire villa, rounding up all the servants. Now they herded them into the courtyard, most of them dressed in their nightclothes. One of the men had Nathaniel. Another held Elizabeth. Leah prayed that no one would tell Gideon that she was Reuben’s daughter.

  “The villa is mine,” Leah said, drawing a deep breath for courage. “You and your men can have it, along with everything in it. I’ll even give you the deed. But please, let the servants go.”

  “No,” Gideon said coldly. “I’ll need the women to run the household. The men will fight with us. Everyone stays.”

  He turned his back on her without another word and began issuing orders. He divided the servants into two groups—Leah and the women in one, the men in another—and assigned two of his men to guard them while they slept.

  “We must pretend that Elizabeth and Nathaniel are servants,” Leah whispered to the others in the darkened room. “They will do the same work as the others. We can’t let Gideon know who you are, Elizabeth.” Leah stayed awake for most of the night praying, trying to decide what to do. As the sun began to rise, she finally had a plan.

  “We’re going to prepare a huge feast for Gideon and his men,” she told the servants the next day. “We will serve them Reuben’s best wine, a year’s supply if we have to. When the men are drunk, we’ll quietly leave for Antioch with the other believers.”

  At first Gideon was reluctant to allow so much food to be wasted on a feast, but when he saw how the idea appealed to his men, he relented. He relaxed around the banquet table with the other Zealots, just as Leah hoped he would.

  “Don’t let the soldiers drain their wine goblets dry,” Leah instructed her servants. “Refill them as soon as they’re half empty.” She made the rounds outside herself, making sure the sentries standing watch at the doors had plenty of wine, too. The guard at the back gate hesitated.

  “I shouldn’t drink, my lady. I’m on watch.”

  “What are you watching for in Degania?” she said, laughing. “Stray dogs? Why should the men inside have all the fun? Here.” She gave him an entire wineskin filled with Reuben’s aged wine. Close to midnight, the drunken sentry fell asleep, leaning against the gatepost. Most of the men in the banquet hall had passed out as well.

  “It’s time to go,” Leah told Nathaniel and the servants. One by one they quietly filed past the sleeping guard with their belongings.

  “Where are your things, Mama?” Elizabeth asked when she reached the gate with Miriam and Ehud.

  “I need to distract Gideon a while longer so he doesn’t notice that everyone is gone. I’ll catch up with you later.” But old Ehud saw through her words.

  “You’re not coming at all, are you,” he said quietly.

  Leah glanced at Elizabeth, dismayed to see that she’d heard, then shook her head. “I believe that the Lord wants me to stay here with Gideon.”

  “I can’t leave you, Mama!” Elizabeth cried. “You have to come!”

  “You belong with Judah now. The two of you must marry when you get to Antioch and begin a new life there together.”

  “Not without you!”

  “Yes, with each other. You can read and write, Elizabeth, and you have your father’s Torah scrolls. You and Judah and the others can help spread the Good News. We are to be Yeshua’s witnesses to the ends of the earth, just as He said. People need to see God’s Kingdom in us, the living stones of His temple. Your work is there, but mine is here. This is the spiritual sacrifice I need to make.”

  “These might be the men who killed Abba! How can you stay with them?”

  “I don’t know . . . but I do know that we’re commanded to love our enemies. Gideon is my brother. It was my fault that he was once beaten by the Romans. And Reuben added to his bitterness by refusing to forgive my father’s debt and making Gideon his servant. My brother has never seen what God is really like. The Pharisees showed him a God who is a nit-picker, waiting to reject him whenever he failed and broke His laws. The Sadducees showed him a God who favored the rich and despised the poor. The Zealots showed him a God who demands vengeance and wrath against unbelievers. How can I expect Gideon to see what God is really like, to see Christ’s forgiveness and love, if I don’t show him?”

  “Oh, Mama!” Elizabeth cried, clinging to her. “How can I leave you?”

  “You must. Take care of her for me, Ehud—for Reuben’s sake. See that she marries Judah. Be happy, Elizabeth—”

  “Where do you think you’re going, Leah?”

  The voice that suddenly came out of the darkness behind her was angry and harsh. She turned, startled, and saw Gideon standing just a few feet away from her, swaying slightly. His eyes were reddened with anger and wine, his voice slurred.

  “I’m not going an
ywhere, Gideon. I’m staying here to see that the household is run for you . . . but please, let these others go.”

  “Why should I?” He pulled a knife from the sheath on his belt and took a staggering step toward them.

  “Because Reuben let you go free. I begged him to have mercy on you after you ran away, and he did. He could have sent the Roman troops after you.”

  Gideon gave a drunken laugh. “The joke was on him, then.” He tipped his knife sheath upside down and caught something as it fell out of the bottom. He held it out to her.

  Reuben’s ring lay in the palm of Gideon’s hand.

  In that moment, Leah hated him more than she ever thought it was possible to hate someone. Rage and grief boiled up inside her until she was angry enough to kill him. He had brutally murdered the man she loved, had mutilated his body. She nearly rushed at Gideon, but the sound of Elizabeth’s sobbing stopped her. It was more important that her daughter and the others go free.

  “If you killed my husband, Gideon, then you owe me.” She slowly dropped to her knees at his feet. “I once begged Reuben for mercy like this—for you—and he let you live. Now I’m begging you. Are you as much of a man as Reuben ben Johanan was?”

  “Shut up!” The words exploded from him in a burst of rage.

  Leah could see it churning inside him as Gideon’s chest heaved, his face contorted. She feared she had gone too far. He grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet, twisting it painfully.

  “Go on! Get out of here, all of you!” he yelled, then turned to stagger back into the house.

  Elizabeth reached for her hand. “Come on, Mama.”

  Leah longed to go with her, to turn her back on her brother and never see him again. She hated him for the murderer that he was. But the words of Christ pierced her heart, convicting her.

  “I can’t go, Elizabeth. I have to stay here.”

  “Mama, no!”