While his men rested, Decius shouted back.
“Your bravery and skill are worthy of Rome. I heard the governor promise that he will spare your lives.”
Lavon translated this for us before turning back to the Roman.
“Will the governor also promise that we will not spend the rest of those lives in slavery?” he replied.
Decius paused to converse with another
“Yes, you will be allowed to go free. We will keep you as prisoners only until the king has gone back to Galilee. Afterwards, you may depart and return to your homes.”
“Why that long?” Lavon shouted.
“We must maintain appearances,” said Decius. “Surely you understand?”
This made sense, though I didn’t relish the thought of spending one second in a Roman dungeon. Governors have been known to change their minds.
“And our women?” said Lavon. “What of them?”
“Herod has insisted upon the return of his property. But do not worry: a brave and resourceful man such as yourself will have no difficulty finding others of equal quality.”
Before Lavon could reply, Naomi leapt up and unleashed a torrent of violent abuse.
The Romans laughed, at least at first, but this time, I could detect nothing good-natured in her tone. As her tirade continued, several of the soldiers grew visibly angry.
At last, Naomi ran out of steam and slumped down, dejected, behind the cover of a pile of stones.
Decius waited for a brief moment, and then spoke, one last time.
“In recognition of your service to us, I will offer you a final opportunity to surrender peacefully. If you refuse, then my conscience is clear, and the responsibility for your deaths will rest entirely upon your own heads.”
I glanced back to Bryson’s pendant: still that nasty puke-yellow.
“Ask him if he’ll let us discuss it among ourselves,” I said. “Tell him we’re all free men, and thus each of us must choose his own individual fate.”
Lavon did so, and the Roman granted us a momentary reprieve.
My mind raced as I tried to work out which tactic would provide us with the greatest delay: whether we should demonstrate that we would resist — perhaps causing the soldiers to reconsider their battle plan — or whether we should feign cooperation.
Though we risked being separated after our capture, my inclination was to go for the latter option.
“If we fight,” I said to Lavon, “they’ll kill us in short order. You know this.”
The archaeologist reluctantly agreed, and we both rose slowly, as if to make a grand demonstration of our peaceful intent.
***
Some times in life, we get to make our own choices. On other occasions, despite our most careful calculations, our choices are made for us.
This became such a moment.
As we considered Decius’s ultimatum, Lavon and I had focused so single-mindedly on delaying the Romans long enough for the LED to turn green that neither of us recognized that Naomi had reached her final tipping point.
Before we could stand fully upright to surrender, she cut loose with an unrestrained burst of profanity, berating both the Romans and our own party with equal vigor.
Her face reflected a volatile mixture of anger and betrayal, and it was only with great difficulty that Lavon managed to prevent her from grabbing a weapon.
It suddenly dawned on me why.
“She thinks we’re selling her out!” I shouted.
She did indeed. Despite Lavon’s best efforts to persuade her to the contrary, he could do nothing but hang on for dear life to prevent her from hurting either him or herself.
Sharon ran over to help, but by this point, Decius had lost patience. Somewhat reluctantly, he signaled for the dozen men at his side to proceed ahead.
I took one glance back, where I saw Bryson huddled behind a rock. Then I picked up my sword.
“Might as well go down fighting,” I said.
The Romans advanced slowly and methodically, reluctant to take casualties when the result of the engagement seemed so certain.
“
“Still yellow,” he muttered. “I don’t know what could be keeping her.”
He mumbled some other excuses, too, but I had lost any desire to listen. By now, the legionnaires had come to within twenty five yards of our position.
I called Sharon to come over to my side.
“Twenty yards!” I cried out.
Lavon understood, though he continued to wrestle with Naomi. If we timed it just right, we’d have time to fall on our own swords afterward.
“Fifteen!
Still yellow.
“Ten!” I shouted, though this time, I did so more to buck up my own courage than to convey any meaningful information.
I was struggling to keep my eyes open, to look my impending doom square in the face, when a man who had gotten us into so much trouble saved us in the end.
I heard a shout — really more of a primeval scream — coming from just behind where I stood.
“Noooo!” yelled Bryson.
But it was too late.
One Roman had gone out ahead of his comrades, but the man slipped on a damp stone and fell hard. Immediately upon seeing this, Markowitz rushed forward to take his revenge — his people’s revenge.
His blow caught the legionnaire squarely in the eye as he rammed the point forward with all his might. Then he yanked the sword back out and screamed for his next opponent just as three others tossed their long javelins.
At that range, the soldiers could not miss, and what their spears started, they finished with their swords.
Our party could only stare in shock at the dismal scene. As the Romans resumed their final advance, I reached around to grasp the back of Sharon’s neck.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, as I held up my blade.
I kept it pointed toward the Romans, hoping to wait until the absolute last infinitesimal fraction of a microsecond to carry out the awful deed that I knew I had to perform.
***
And that was it. The next thing I recalled, the five of us lay sprawled on a smooth white floor. I rolled over, grabbed my weapon, and quickly jumped to my feet, looking left and right, like a wild man ready to pounce.
It was only then that I realized we had made it home.
Chapter 66
I tossed my sword to one side, completely indifferent to any damage I might have done to the polished ceramic floor.
While I verified that I still possessed the correct number of appendages, all connected in their proper places — a legacy habit from hundreds of low altitude parachute jumps — the sliding panel opened, and Juliet Bryson rushed in to embrace her husband.
The others just sat on the floor in stunned silence, though they gradually relaxed as they, too, realized that
