“I know the situation. I just wish you’d told me in your text,” Dwayne said.
“Why?” Lee said, reaching around the stall wall for the bottle of Tennessee whiskey.
“Joppa? Yeah I know Joppa,” Bat Jaffe said, toweling off her hair in her private cabin.
“How well?” Dwayne asked.
“I’ve been there,” she said. “It’s the namesake for my family. It’s called ‘Jaffa’ now. Why?”
“Because we’re catching about two days sleep and we’re going back,” Lee said.
49
What the Blind Woman Saw
It was a shrine to Ceres, the goddess of fertility.
The construction was recent and Roman and contrasted with its surroundings with its fluted columns of purple-veined marble and gleaming roof of polished copper. It sat in the shade of young trees at the center of an open square surrounded by sagging dwellings taken over as doma for Roman citizens living in Judea.
Two men and a woman walked from a narrow lane and across the square through the midday heat. They led a pack mule behind them. The residents were either secluded in the shade of their homes or down in the markets enjoying the cooling breeze from the sea. No one noticed the trio seeking the oracle.
Lee Hammond was reminded once again that these structures had been new at one time. Like most people, he had only the image of colorless ruins in his mind when picturing places in the past. The buildings facing the square were painted in colors that reminded him of South Florida. Pink and yellow and blue in various hues tinted the fronts of the multi-story apartments. The shrine was a riot of colors that would have been at home in a Tijuana souvenir store. The eaves were decorated with outsized sheaves of wheat, bunches of grapes, and tree limbs weighed down with fruit. These reliefs were all painted in every color of the spectrum in gleaming enamels.
As they approached, they could see the life-sized statue of Ceres standing on a plinth within. She stood with an armload of ripe grain stalks and a hand out in a gesture of benefaction. Her expression was open and vapid and genially smiling. The statue was painted in garish colors with the face grotesquely made up with heavy eye shadow, rouged cheeks, and bright red lips. The goddess looked like she was ready for a night of hooking at a truck stop. She even had one breast exposed as a come-on. Let a thousand years strip away the enamel and artfully distress her, and she’d be a revered work of art. To Lee’s eyes, she’d look tacky standing in a corner of a Bennigan’s.
The granite dais at the feet of the statue was littered with the stems of long-dead flowers and baskets filled with black clumps of shriveled and rotten fruit. Rats skittered from the baskets at the sound of boots on the tiles. Ceres’ devotees had been lax in their worship.
“Is this still here back in The Now?” Lee said.
“This will be a neighborhood in Tel Aviv. None of this is here then,” Bat said. “But I think we’re near a Pizza Hut I used to go to.”
“I could go for a meat lovers’,” Chaz said, picking up a hammered copper bowl. A couple of tarnished coins rattled around the bottom.
“It won’t get here for two thousand years, so it’ll be free,” Bat said.
The scrape of sandal leather made them turn to see a woman draped in a black cloak shuffling from the dark behind the statue. She was bent, with clawed hands. A strip of faded blue cloth was tied over her eyes.
“I’m guessing this is the Oracle,” Lee said.
“What do I ask her?” Bat inquired.
“Don’t ask her shit.” The voice came from the blazing sunshine outside the shrine.
“She’s not even blind, and the arthritis is a fake,” Jimmy Smalls said as they exited. He was dressed in a cotton kaftan and sandals. His jet hair reached his shoulders. One eye was covered with a strip of white cloth tied about his head. He smiled openly, holding his arms out for a hug from Chaz that lifted him off the ground.
“Ribs, you dumb bastard,” Jimbo winced and Chaz set him down.
“Sorry, bro.”
“How the hell did you find me?” Jimbo said.
“You know, I’m still not clear on that,” Lee said, pumping Jimbo’s hand in his.
“Bruce, it’s okay, brother,” Jimbo said, looking past them. He gestured to someone.
Byrus stepped from the alcove of a domus on the opposite side of the square. He wore a clean singlet, belted with his sword girdle.
“He still hanging with you?” Chaz said.
“I wouldn’t have made it without him. He hauled my ass away from some deep shit. I don’t remember all of it. I was getting used to the idea of staying here.”
“Your eye?” Bat said.
“Gone. I took a bad hit. Bruce had to cut it free. I remember that part. Wish I didn’t,” Jimbo said, giving an exaggerated grimace.
“We’ll get you back now. Have a doctor look at it,” Lee said.
“We have a boat, a period-accurate skiff tied up down at the harbor,” Bat said.
“You have anything you need to take with you?” Lee said.
“Nope. All my gear that I brought back, I dumped in the sea to rust. We’re ready to go.” Jimbo shrugged.
Lee and Chaz shared a glance. Bat laughed.
“Bruce goes with us. He goes, or I stay.” Jimbo’s voice was flat. His eyes locked on Lee’s.
Lee said nothing. He looked at the dusty street and ran a hand over his jaw.
“I owe him my life, Hammond.”
“Look what followed me home, huh?” Lee said without looking up. “Does he know where he’s going?”
“He’s going with us. That’s all that matters.”
“Well, fuck it. So, we have a plus one going back,” Lee said, grinning.
“The Taubers are gonna want to kill us,” Chaz said.
“Never leave a man behind,” Bat said.
Jimbo pulled a leather pouch from his belt and
