committed his offense in Jerusalem — and thus was the governor’s problem.
“But he didn’t do that. By mocking Jesus, Herod signaled his approval of what Pilate was about to do, in a manner that acknowledged the quandary the governor faced.”
That struck me as a reasonable interpretation, though from the conversation we had heard a few hours ago, the skill involved was Azariah’s.
“So you’re saying the
“Oh, I think we’ve done better than that,” I said. “Accounts of Ray’s swordsmanship undoubtedly filtered down to the dungeons. We know that at least one prisoner, Barabbas, got away. Any Zealots we encounter will be highly motivated to kill us.”
I couldn’t resist needling him, though given the horror to which two of their compatriots were being subjected at that very moment, any of Barabbas’s ill-fated crew who had managed to get away would undoubtedly be laying low.
***
Lavon and Naomi conversed in Greek for a few minutes and then explained their plan. In light of our circumstances, they concluded that our best bet would be to head for the Mount of Olives. Lavon and the others had at least a passing familiarity with the surroundings, which covered a broad area of broken, rocky terrain.
“We should find a number of places to conceal ourselves, at least temporarily,” said the archaeologist. “The Mount’s difficult topography was the reason the authorities needed an insider’s knowledge of Jesus’s whereabouts to arrest him. They knew they would never find him stumbling around by themselves.”
This made sense to us all, so we started in that direction. For the most part, we were able to remain hidden in the deep ravine to Jerusalem’s south as we worked our way toward our destination.
We had only one brief uncomfortable moment; a short interval in which we had to climb out into the open to cross the main thoroughfare leading to the Tekoa Gate — the same portal we had passed through two days earlier, in what now seemed like a different age.
Naomi, however, assured us that the line of travelers waiting to go inside were far more concerned with getting past the Roman soldiers who now monitored the entrance than they would be with a handful of individuals going the other way.
This proved to be the case, and we slipped back down into the Kidron Ravine without incident. Shortly thereafter, we wound our way through a narrow trail until we reached the southern end of the Mount of Olives, where we halted at the edge of a copse of trees.
Lavon studied the terrain carefully, as did I. He and Naomi exchanged a few words; then he turned back to the others.
“We can rest here, under the cover of the trees, for an hour or two,” he said.
***
Sharon had had virtually no sleep for two nights in a row, so I cleared out a hollow space between two boulders and folded my robe to provide her a thin layer of padding.
“Not much of a mattress, I’m afraid.”
She smiled, though she was so tired that it didn’t matter. She curled up into a ball and within less than a minute, she had fallen into a deep slumber.
Citing ancient Army wisdom about sleeping whenever the opportunity presented itself, I instructed Bryson and Markowitz to rest also — though in truth, I just wanted them out of the way while Lavon, Naomi and I worked up a new a plan.
By now, we had to assume that knowledge of Sharon’s disappearance had reached the king’s ears, and that a search for her whereabouts had begun.
“How long before they discover the dead guards?” I asked.
Naomi admitted that she could not answer that question with certainty. The palace grounds covered more than twenty acres, which could take days to search, though Herod’s investigators would concentrate their initial efforts on the known routes from the king’s bedchamber to the central baths.
“Sooner, rather than later, then?” I asked.
“Probably,” she said.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t have strangled them,” Lavon added.
“If we’re caught, we’re dead either way,” I replied. “Besides, if those two had lived, they could tell Herod exactly where they were attacked, and how we got in. Naomi had to protect her friends.”
Lavon was aware of this, though his conscience resisted admitting it.
He pointed out that once Herod’s men found the guards’ bodies, they would be certain that she had outside help. Despite Sharon’s proven resourcefulness, none of them would believe that a lone woman could disarm and kill two soldiers by herself.
This was true; but on the positive side, even if the king’s guards knew she had external assistance, they wouldn’t necessarily know who had provided it, unless -
“If someone saw us exit the palace, would they report it?” I asked.
As before, Naomi couldn’t be sure. Given the harsh punishment administered to wayward slaves, she acknowledged that if questioned, they would quickly admit the truth.
On the other hand, the free common people did their best to avoid contact with officialdom, so in the absence of an incentive, they would hesitate to come forward.
This sounded vaguely promising, and for a moment, I began to believe that we might survive until sundown.
And if we stayed alive until then …
“What about the Sabbath?” I asked. “Do Herod’s people observe it?”
The question amused her.
“Inside the palace, he ignores it, but the king is aware of the importance of demonstrating outward piety to his subjects.”
Her answer was the one I had expected.
“Too bad he can’t run for Congress,” I muttered. “He’d fit right in.”
“I think Christ himself answered your real question,” said Lavon. “When the priests complained about his healing a man on the Sabbath, he noted that they didn’t have a problem with rescuing their own livestock on that day.”
“In other words,” I said, “the emergency justified what would otherwise be forbidden work.”
“Yes. Besides, that tracker who found Sharon is probably not even Jewish.”
Chapter 57
As the others rested, Lavon and I each checked our earpieces, but we both recognized that we’d probably gain no more useful information from the palace. We no longer even heard background noise.
“Do you think we’ve traveled out of range?” he asked.
That had been my first thought, too, but then a more likely explanation came to mind.
“I’ll bet Herod smashed it,” I said.
I explained the precise manner by which the king had wound up with Sharon’s device the previous evening. With everything that had followed my return to the Antonia, the opportunity to do so never presented itself until then.
Lavon burst out laughing. He could picture, as I could, the irate monarch grinding Sharon’s transmitter into the stone floor with his heel; but that was not the only reason for his mirth regarding the subject of Herod and anger management.
“Less than a month ago,” he said, “two of my colleagues nearly came to blows at a conference over the issue of whether Jesus appeared before the king at all.”
I cast him a curious glance. “That’s disputed?”
He nodded.
“Those who argue it never happened maintain that the Romans would not have had enough time to send
