Then he reminded me who he was once again.
“I am Judah.”
“Yes. You are Judah.”
“Son of Israel.”
“Son of Israel.”
Satisfied, he turned from me and stroked his beard, pacing.
“I have only one request of you, Maviah.”
“Of course. Anything.”
“You say that Phasa has an eye for Saba?”
“Clearly.”
“Then perhaps you might convince her to do what you cannot.”
“To do what? Comfort Saba?”
He took one of the bars in his hand and spoke in a very soft voice.
“No. To go to Capernaum. To see Yeshua.”
Yeshua. I had put the mystic from my mind, worried only for Judah.
He continued, speaking quickly in a whisper. “Miriam told me that her son travels sometimes to Judea. He was by the sea in Capernaum when we saw Miriam, but he’s not likely to remain long.”
“You fear that he will leave before Herod returns,” I said.
“Yes.”
I felt oddly irritated in that moment. Surely Judah could find his mystic after we were out of danger.
“You want Phasa to find a way for me to find—”
“Never! Herod has forbidden you to leave. But Phasa might go. On account of Saba.”
“For Saba? Hers is but a passing fantasy! She would never go on his account.”
“You could speak to Phasa. She might be swayed.”
It was absurd. Judah was grasping for his stars. Perhaps I was bothered by the awareness that his obsession with finding his sage consumed him more than our present danger. His fixation on Yeshua seemed to have deepened here in the dungeon.
“Speak to Phasa on this,” he said. “A way might be made, you understand. Perhaps Phasa would want to see Yeshua for herself. Do only this and I would find great comfort here in my cell.”
I had promised Miriam that I would say nothing to Herod’s court of Yeshua. Judah had made the same promise. Still, his imploring eyes drew me.
“And if she agreed, what would Phasa say to this sage?” I asked.
He blinked. “She would tell him about me and my elders who came to him. She would ask him if I could be of any assistance.”
“To join with him in overthrowing Rome? She is Herod’s wife. You ask the impossible.”
“Then she might only see him and report for me. You say she is a friend to Jews and to you… ask her. Or perhaps she knows of another who will go on my behalf.”
It was madness.
Then again, Judah was Bedu. It is said that the greatest Bedu feed on madness, for it makes one strong enough to defeat the greatest enemy in the desert. Or perhaps his time alone in the dungeon had pushed him beyond reason.
“I only ask that you speak to her about—”
“Yes,” I said.
“Yes?”
“Yes, I will speak to Phasa.”
“You will, then?”
“For you, I will find a way.”
I was so taken with Judah’s passion for his king, and he was so engrossed in the prospect of gaining news of him, that neither of us heard the sound from the passage until it was upon us. Only the scrape of a sandal on the floor, but unmistakable.
We turned as one, breath caught.
At first I could not make sense of what my eyes saw. A guard, yes, but not just any guard. My heart crashed into my throat.
For it was Brutus who stood in the passage, face like a stone.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WHAT EVENTS had conspired to me pluck me from the heavens and thrust me into the deepest abyss? Perhaps I had been seen after all, and a report made to Brutus. Perhaps he had never left the palace, or had returned by chance. Perhaps my plotting with Phasa had been overheard.
Any explanation for how Brutus came to be standing in the dungeons would do nothing to remove him.
“Judah?” My voice came in a trembling whisper.
“Say nothing.”
No, for there was nothing to be said. Except by Brutus.
“So.” His low voice sent dread through my bones. “The whore from the desert seeks misery.”
Two guards approached from behind him, one of whom held a torch.
A nightmare unfolded before me, too quickly and too slowly at once. And as in a dream, I was powerless to alter events.
Even if I had been able to influence Brutus, he was beyond the place for words.
Calmly withdrawing a knife from his side, he walked up to me, grabbed my hair, and pulled me against him, blade at my neck.
Judah gripped the bars and his knuckles turned white. “She is under the protection of Herod!”
Brutus ignored the warning. “Restrain the slave.”
The guard with the torch set it in the wall and approached the cell, keys in hand.
“If you resist, I will cut her,” Brutus said.
With those words we both knew what Brutus intended. Judah looked into my eyes, offering me strength. But I knew then that it was he, not I, who would need it.