The Hidden Flame (5 page)

Ezra, however, held no such illusions. "They are a threat to us and our position within the community. The Zealots will destroy everything we hold dear. The Romans will win in the end, and they will crush us along with the Zealots."

"Are you suggesting we help the Romans?" Gamaliel's voice was low, but his meaning clear.

"I am tempted. But I, for one, cannot condone that step."

"Quite. Judeans aiding Romans to kill Judeans. It is an appalling prospect."

"The Sanhedrin have done it before." Ezra's eyebrows arched pointedly.

Gamaliel was silent.

"I am speaking of the crucified prophet, the one they call Jesus of Nazareth."

"I know of whom you speak." Gamaliel rose and crossed to the window. "They have adopted a new name."

"Who?"

"The dead prophet's disciples. They call themselves followers of the Way."

The window's heavy drapes cast his friend's features in soft desert pastels. But Ezra could see he was very worried indeed. "What difference does it make to us, the name a handful of Galilean rabble take for themselves?"

"They are no longer a handful, and they are not just from Galilee. Some put their numbers at three thousand, others at five-or more.

"Impossible!" Ezra rose to his feet.

"Perhaps. But I trust my source." He named a senior priest at the Freedmen's Synagogue, a gathering place for many freed slaves, especially Judeans from outlying regions of the empire where Greek was still the predominant language. "He says they are spreading like wildfire, most especially among the Jerusalem poor."

"Just like the Essenes," Ezra murmured, sitting once again.

"Yes and no. The Essene movement has certainly gathered momentum over the past ten years. It is said there are somewhere around fifty communities spread throughout Judea. Some number a few dozen members, others as many as a thousand. One of the largest lies east of the Mount of Olives, another on the Dead Sea's western shore. Some are celibate and restricted to men, others populated by entire clans. They are united in their loathing of the Sanhedrin and the Temple priesthood, which they consider corrupt. But they've been a peaceful lot, electing to remove themselves entirely from the general population, waiting for the Messiah to come and rescue their nation. But in the current political and religious upheaval-"

"I don't understand," Ezra cut in. "You think even the Essenes might now preach violence?"

"No. At least not yet. They claim many astonishing things," Gamaliel replied, still facing the window. "But violence is not among them."

"Have these-these new disciples of the dead prophet joined with the Zealots?"

"No. They too speak of peace." The priest gave a shudder. "If they changed ... What an appalling thought."

"I still don't-"

"No, nor I." Gamaliel strode back over to his chair. "All I can tell you for certain is that these followers of Jesus are growing faster than any sect we have ever faced. And the stories I hear grow with them. They still claim the prophet Jesus rose from the dead, walked among them, and then went up into the heavens. They claim he is the true Messiah. They claim ..."

"Yes?"

"Miracles," Gamaliel said. "Signs and wonders. Things which enflame the passions of everyone within reach. Either the listeners join, or they become enemies. Talk of them is everywhere. If anything sways them-diverts them-I fear a storm of such force that everything might soon be swept up. And away ..."

Ezra shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Were this anyone else speaking, I would cast it aside as nonsense."

"But it is I who talk with you, old friend, and this is not nonsense. How long were you gone, four months?"

"Almost five."

"So in five months the followers have grown into a force that must be reckoned with."

"I would think the Sanhedrin would be very disturbed by all this. What does it propose to do?"

"The Sanhedrin members are pulling their beards, looking down at the floor. They thought with the prophet dead, the rabble would soon disperse. They are only beginning to accept that this is something new. And many more are coming to believe that this dead prophet is in fact the long-awaited Messiah. It is growing into a powerful force within the community. One that must be confronted."

Ezra caught the new tone. "You have an idea, do you not?"

"Think of it. They have no allies in the power structure. I want you to go speak with their leaders."

Ezra couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You cannot be serious. I'm just a merchant-"

"Precisely. They have nothing to fear from you." Gamaliel picked up a parchment from the table. "Here are the names of their leaders we have managed to identify. Apostles, they are called. The street names are where local followers have opened their homes to the group. Some have given land which has now been set aside for their encampments outside the city gates. Go and meet with them. They are clearly poor. Build for us an ally. Offer them Temple gold if need be. See if they can be trusted. Find out their intentions. And report back to me, old friend, and no one else."

Ezra was a man of many talents. Son of a merchant from Tyre, he had traveled to Jerusalem at age twelve to study with a Pharisee scholar. Some said this man had been the finest living teacher of Torah anywhere in the world. At the time of Ezra's arrival, Gamaliel had been studying with the same teacher for almost two years. Gamaliel took young Ezra under his wing and helped him adjust to the alien worlds of the Temple, the city of Jerusalem, and applied study. Ezra soon became aware that the Jerusalem scholars were already speaking of Gamaliel in awe, for the young man's mind absorbed verses and commentaries like a sea sponge. Gamaliel could either read or hear a text one time, then recite it back perfectly. They were already calling him a tzaddick, a man apart, one set aside by God for special purposes.

Ezra had never possessed a scholar's mind such as Gamaliel's. Nor did he much care. The eldest son, he had come for this time of study because it was a family tradition. His father had done so, as had his father's father, and on back through the seven generations since the Maccabees had redeemed the Temple and the scholars had returned to Jerusalem. Before sending Ezra south, his father had set two tasks before him. Of course he was to study the Talmud, and obey his teacher, and bring honor to the family name. But there was something more besides. Ezra was also to establish allies within the Temple hierarchy and the city of Jerusalem. His father assured him that such friendships, forged early and strong, would bear great fruit, even beyond financial ones, in the years to come.

Ezra had eventually expanded the family empire. He had sent his younger brothers to establish new centers in Cyprus and Tarsus and Damascus. His sisters had wed, and through these marriages Ezra had forged further powerful alliances. He had recently renewed contact with far-flung relatives, extending the family's trading reach as far as Spanish Gaul to the west, and now to Alexandria to the south.

His father had been correct, of course. The friendship with Gamaliel had borne great fruit. Ezra for some years had been the priest's largest benefactor. As Gamaliel had risen through the ranks to finally become one of the Sanhedrin, Ezra's power had risen with his. But there was more. Ezra possessed far-flung alliances forged in secrecy and maintained through utmost discretion.

These were perilous times. The Roman empire was in foment, especially here in the east. The Zealots were growing in power, their reach extending much farther and faster than even Gamaliel realized, for the priest had not left Jerusalem for years. In the provinces, talk of the Zealots was everywhere. More and more young men, infuriated by the foot of Rome upon their necks, were dropping their shepherd's crooks and their tools and leather aprons to slip away from farms and shops and forges, taking up the swords and the cause of the Zealots. Their families said kaddish for them, the prayer of the dead, because it was an accepted fact that they would never hear from their loved ones again. Once a man entered the Zealots, his only possibility for opting out was through death-in battle or by a Zealot's sword as a traitor.

Several young servants and workers of Ezra had already followed the call of adventure and glory and duty. Early on, he had realized that trying to stop them was futile. So he had let it be known that he wished contact with the leaders. Not to negotiate. Simply to offer assistance. He became one of the first merchants to grant the Zealots a tribute. As a result, his caravans were never touched, and he was often the first to receive news of any development. As with his other astute business decisions, he profited greatly.

Now with this new group, these followers of the dead prophet Jesus, Ezra's plans were simple. If they were growing as fast as Gamaliel suggested, he needed to forge another alliance. Yes, of course, he would assist Gamaliel with news and such. But what harm was there in some gain for himself? He was, after all, the son and grandson and great-grandson of successful merchants.

So he tucked away the names that Gamaliel had offered him, and did as he had done so often in the past. He let it be known through his employees and his allies that he sought an audience with the leaders of this group. He assured them that he was curious. Nothing more. He sought to gain, to learn, to give assistance. He came in peace.

What was the harm in that?

C H A P T E R

FOUR

THE DAY WAS ALREADY TOO HOT, even though the glow from the sun was barely visible above its eastern bed. Abigail brushed at the persistent fly disturbing her sleep, hoping to sink back into the blissful comfort of slumber. She fanned the air above her, both to get some movement into the stillness and to scare away the pest.

Her simple motion served to pull her further into the morning and into the responsibilities and challenges facing her. She stirred. What would this day hold? Simply another round of toil? Further revelations about their Messiah to one or another of the group leaders? Longed-for news from Alban and Leah? Threats from those who did not accept the truth? Or maybe even Messiah's return?

Abigail rolled from her pallet, now totally awake. After Leah and Alban's harrowing escape over two years previous, she and Jacob had returned from their overnight hideout to her quarters among the followers. Later they had moved to the small lean-to at the back of the fishmonger's shop, and Jacob had settled into his Hebrew studies with varying degrees of cooperation, depending on the opportunities for adventure that day, while she continued her duties among the women.

She heard no movement from the tiny loft above the room they called home. Jacob was either still asleep or had already left without her. They met each morning with a group of the followers for a time of thanksgiving and supplication, a practice maintained by members of their group throughout Jerusalem.

Abigail rolled up her pallet and pushed it to the side of the small room. "Jacob, I fear we are late. Didn't the rooster crow?" she called.

She had always depended on their neighbor's fowl to rouse her from her bed. "Jacob!"

The muffled reply drifting down from above brought an unconscious sigh. Jacob had truly accepted neither the reality nor the reasons for Alban's sudden departure without him. Though Jacob did not speak of it, she could feel his sorrow, his discontent. She knew Alban's leaving had left an enormous hole in her brother's life. She also knew he did not enjoy his work assignment among the carpenters since his bar mitzvah. She had observed him sitting at the end of the day, saying nothing, just staring at his roughened and blistered hands. Abigail was sure she could read his expression. These are not made to be handling rough wood, gathering splinters, forming callouses. No, they were made to clutch a sword. To signal an order to those under my command. If only Alban ... Some days Abigail felt she was losing her brother, one day at a time. He was becoming more silent, more withdrawn, and there seemed to be nothing she could do or say to bring him back.

As many times before, she whispered a prayer as she prepared herself for the day. "Dear Father, may this be the day we hear from Alban. And keep Jacob . . . "