The Third Day

Publius considered this; then asked me if I was a doctor.

I thought about saying yes, but decided not to press my luck.

“No,” I replied. “I received basic training only. Other men worked as physicians, as in your unit.”

“You are a soldier, then?”

“Was,” I said; “Many years ago.”

“How many men did you command?”

I paused as if having difficulty understanding the translation. An American colonel in the line commanded anywhere from three to five thousand men — nearly a legion’s worth. If they believed my answer, hearing of an army that size would alarm them. Later, as an intelligence officer, I had led a small team of five. The Romans would consider this a joke.

“Tell him about eighty,” I said.

Lavon did so.

Publius smiled; then glanced over toward Volusus. “I told you he had the look of a centurion.”

***

A loud crash interrupted our conversation as a pile of stacked rubble fell to the ground outside. All of us, including the two Romans, hurried over to the windows, where we observed a torch-lit procession of laborers — men we had not seen earlier — hard at work, carrying a mountain of rubbish out the complex’s eastern gate.

Volusus directed our attention toward a team of workers attacking a similar mound of debris at the other end of the courtyard.

“As I mentioned earlier,” he said to Publius, “we, too, have had some challenging days.”

“Did you take casualties?”

“None so far, thank the gods.”

“What happened?”

Volusus shook his head and spat. “Another one of their damned prophets.”

Publius rolled his eyes. “Again?”

Volusus pointed to our left. “Late in the afternoon, two days ago, this man came riding into the courtyard on the back of a donkey through the Shushan Gate, right over there. A large crowd followed him, waving palm fronds and shouting all sorts of nonsense.”

“Where did he come from?”

“My informants tell me that he started in one of those little villages to the east, though no one could give me a definitive answer. What is undisputed, though, is that a horde of this rabble ran ahead of him the whole way here, scattering their branches along the road — ‘preparing a path’ they said.”

“For what?”

“I’m still trying to get a straight answer to that. We’ve heard so many conflicting stories.”

“What happened next?”

“Strangely enough, nothing. He stayed only a few minutes before turning around and going back out the same way.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a disturbance,” said Publius.

I glanced over to Lavon. Prophet; palm fronds. I could see that he, too, was struggling to keep an expressionless face.

“No; but he came back. Yesterday, this same man popped up in the market area with a whip. He overturned the merchants’ tables, opened the bird cages, and drove away the animals — shouting at them the whole time.”

Volusus paused to let the image sink in.

“You should have seen it; you know how excitable these people are. Everything just fed on itself — men crawling about on the ground, fighting each other for loose coins; panicked animals running every which way, with their owners trying to chase them down through the swarms of pilgrims coming in through the south gates. You can’t imagine the chaos.”

I watched Publius struggle to keep a straight face. In another set of circumstances, the scene would be almost comical — at least from a safe distance when their own careers didn’t hang in the balance.

Volusus spat again before he continued. “The whole thing took us by surprise. At least an hour passed before the Temple police could get the crowd back under control. By then the market area was a complete wreck. As you see, they’re still working to haul the debris away.”

Both men stared at the laborers for a few moments.

“Did this prophet say why he did this?” asked Publius.

“Supposedly, he was upset with how much money they’re making. ‘Den of thieves’ was his exact term, or so I hear.”

“It sounds like he’s called that one right. Our good Roman money is conveniently unclean; the people’s own livestock are blemished and unacceptable for an offering. It’s quite a racket they have, if you ask me.”

“That may be,” snapped the commander, “but we can’t afford this kind of disorder — not this week.”

“If this man caused a disturbance at such a sensitive time, why didn’t you arrest him?”

“On the Temple Mount? All that marching in the hot sun today must have melted your brains. If those people saw a Roman uniform on their holy spot in the middle of their festival, we could have a full scale insurrection on our hands. You know that.”

“The prefect would be most upset,” said Publius.

“The prefect would be the least of our worries. Even with your entire century, we’d not have one chance in ten of getting back here alive. That mob would tear us to pieces.”

“Why didn’t their Temple police arrest him, then?”

Volusus sighed. “He has sympathizers in their high council. I can scarcely believe it, but he came back to the Temple, once more, this morning — yet they did nothing.”

“Have you seen this man yourself?”

The commander shook his head. “No. My informants mostly just repeat the rumors they’ve heard. A miracle worker, some call him; heals the sick; turns water into wine.”

Publius lifted his empty cup. “A handy person to keep around, I’d say.”

The other man laughed, possibly for the first time that week.

“It gets better. A story is circulating that a few days ago, he raised one of his childhood friends from the dead.”

“Even handier,” said Publius. “I’m beginning to like this fellow.”

Volusus laughed again and visibly relaxed.

“Just get us through this week without a riot,” he implored. “Then these people will all go home, where they belong, and we can return to civilization in Caesarea.”

“Until next year.”

“Next year, this will be your problem. I am retiring and will recommend to the prefect that you take my place. After the festival is over, you can come visit me on my farm.”

Chapter 25

“Are you going to tell us what they were talking about?” said Markowitz after the two Romans had left.

Lavon shook his head. “I’m having trouble believing it — not what they said, but that we’re here to see it.”

“What did they say?” asked Markowitz.

“They were complaining,” said Lavon, “griping about the crowds and a new prophet who has appeared on the scene.”

“Prophet?”

The archaeologist pointed to the southern end of the Temple complex.

“Right over there; that’s where the merchants sit. Yesterday morning, this prophet came charging in and drove them all out.”