An Echo in the Darkness(56)

“You’re asking the wrong man. About all I know is the Christians believe the Messiah has already come. His name was Jesus.” He laughed derisively. “This Jesus, who was supposedly their anointed one of God, came from some little dunghill in Galilee named Nazareth. Believe me, nothing good comes out of Galilee. Ignorant fishermen and shepherds, mostly, but certainly not a Messiah like the one the Jews are expecting. The Messiah is supposed to be a warrior-king who comes down from the heavens with a legion of angels. The Christians worship a Messiah who was a carpenter. What’s more, he was crucified, though they claim he arose from the dead. According to this sect, Jesus fulfilled and, thereby, abolished the Law. There’s enough in that claim to keep a war going forever. If there’s one thing I’ve come to know in twenty years of living in this miserable country, it’s this: A Jew isn’t a Jew without the Law. It’s the air they breathe.”

Malchus shook his head. “And I’ll tell you something else. They’ve got more laws than Rome, and they’re adding to them all the time. They’ve got their Torah, written by Moses. Then they’ve got their civil and moral laws. They’ve even got dietary laws. Then they’ve got their traditions. I swear Jews have laws about everything, even how and where a man can relieve himself!”

Marcus frowned. Something Hadassah had once said about the Law flickered like a small flame in his mind. She had summed up the entire Law in a few words for Claudius, Julia’s first husband. He had written it down onto one of his scrolls and then read her words to him. What had they been?

“I need to find out,” Marcus muttered to himself.

“Find out what?” Malchus said.

“What the truth is.”

Malchus frowned, not understanding.

“How do I get to Mount Gerizim?” Marcus said.

“Just walk out that door and you’ll see two mountains, Mount Ebal to the north, Mount Gerizim to the south. Between them is the pass to the valley of Nablus. Abraham came through there to their ‘Promised Land.‘”

Marcus gave him a gold coin.

Malchus’ brows lifted slightly as he turned it in his fingers. The Roman must be very rich. “The road’ll take you through the town of Sychar, but I give you fair warning. Romans are hated throughout Palestine, and a Roman traveling by himself is asking for trouble. Especially one with money.”

“I was told a Roman legion guards these roads.”

Malchus laughed without humor. “No road is safe from sicarii. And they’d sooner slit your throat than listen to any plea for mercy.”

“I’ll be on the watch for zealots.”

“These men aren’t zealots. Zealots are like those who committed suicide on Masada a few years back. They preferred death to slavery. You can respect men like that. Sicarii are something else altogether. They see themselves as patriots, but they’re nothing more than murderous bandits.” He pushed the gold coin into the fold of his grimy girdle. “You’ve picked a foul country to travel in, my lord. There’s nothing here to recommend it to a Roman.”

“I came to find out about their god.”

Malchus gave a surprised laugh. “Why would anyone want to have anything to do with their god? You can’t see him. You can’t hear him. And look what’s happened to the Jews. If you ask me, you ought to stay well away from their god.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Marcus said in clear dismissal.

“It’s your life,” Malchus muttered under his breath and went to see to his other patrons.

Malchus’ wife placed a clay bowl of stew before Marcus. Hungry, he ate and found the mixture of lentils, beans, and grain with honey and oil satisfying. When he finished, Marcus rose and found his booth against the wall of the open courtyard. His horse had been given hay and grain. Nudging the animal aside, Marcus rolled out his bed and lay down for the night.

He awakened every time someone stirred or got up. Two travelers from Jericho drank wine, laughed at jokes, and talked far into the night. Others, like a retired soldier and his young wife and child, settled early.

Marcus awakened at daybreak and set off for Mount Gerizim. He rode through the town of Sychar late in the afternoon. Eager to reach his destination, he didn’t stop but continued up the mountain. He stopped at a Jewish shrine to ask questions, but hearing his accent and noting his dress, the people avoided him. He rode a little farther, hobbled his horse, and set off on foot to reach the top.

What he found there was a magnificent view of the hill country of the Jewish Promised Land.

But there was no sign of a god. Not that he could see. Frustrated, he cried out against the emptiness around him. “Where are you? Why do you hide from me?”