David Epperson - The Third Day

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.”

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 Jesus from the Antonia to the palace and still squeeze in all the other events of the Good Friday sequence. Walking through the streets would have taken at least an hour, each direction.”

“They wouldn’t risk going through the streets at all,” I said; “not with that crowd. Publius and Volusus both have far better sense than to try something like that.”

“I know,” said Lavon. “What do you think they did?”

I considered this for a moment.

“I’ll bet they just threw him on the back of a horse and went around the city walls, like I did the other night. That couldn’t have taken more than fifteen minutes.”

He nodded; then stared back in the direction of the city, lost in thought.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said.

***

I noticed that dark clouds were beginning to roll in from the west.

“We have more pressing concerns at the moment, anyway” I said; “although the rain should work to our advantage, by making our tracks harder to follow.”

“ If it rains,” Lavon corrected. “The movies all show a downpour, but the Gospel texts only mention ‘a great darkness’ covering the land after the sixth hour.”

“Oh.”

“But it might rain,” he continued. “Since we’re not wearing waterproof clothing, we should try to find a better shelter. Six drowned rats will stand out even more than we do already.”

This made perfect sense. I remained in our makeshift observation post while Lavon crept about fifty yards to the north, where he located an overhang that sheltered a gap in the rock large enough for us all to squeeze in.

We waited another half hour after he returned to give the others some extra nap time, but finally, the wind picked up, impelling us to move along.

Lavon and I established a new observation post; then we woke the others. As we did so, I tried without success to stifle a yawn and I couldn’t help but chuckle as I watched Lavon do the same.

He had to be mentally exhausted as well, having to converse in a foreign language for several days under difficult circumstances with no room for mistranslation.

I had enough field experience to know that tired men make stupid mistakes, but since the archaeologist and I had both concluded that we’d be safe for a few hours, we decided take a chance and get a little sleep while the others stood guard.

Like I said, tired men make stupid mistakes.

***

The next thing I remember, Sharon was shaking me awake. I grumbled for a moment, but then I came to my senses enough to detect the raw urgency in her voice.

“They’re coming,” she said.

“Wh — ”

I swore, then sprang up and woke Lavon. After I explained our situation, I followed Sharon back to our first sentry post — a small gap in the limestone ridge shielded by an uprooted olive tree.

Not more than a quarter mile away, and slightly downhill from our position, four soldiers stood behind a man who had bent down to inspect an object I could not see.

Though only one of the four sported the black uniform of the palace guards, we could not mistake their identities.

Sharon focused her attention on the apparent leader, a dark-skinned man wrapped in a headdress and a flowing white robe.

“That’s the tracker who found me,” she whispered. “I’m certain of it.”

This was bad news indeed.

Every few steps, the Bedouin crouched down to examine the ground. Had I been on the other side, I would have admired the man’s remarkable expertise.

Now, though, I could only sense our impending doom. At the rate they were moving, the soldiers would be on us within minutes.

I turned around to see Lavon heading our way. I signaled for him to fetch Naomi and to stay low and keep quiet. Markowitz caught my gesture as well, and flattened himself to the ground.

As I assessed our situation realistically, I struggled not to lose hope. We had only one sword between the six of us, and the only member of our party who had ever wielded one in anger had no military training other than the hour on Pilate’s parade ground.

Lavon, fortunately, retained a clear mind. He crept up to my side, holding a stout branch the size of a baseball bat.

“We have to split them up and ambush them,” he whispered. “Otherwise, they’ll eventually corner us and kill us.”

After a moment’s reflection, that was the way I saw it, too. We had only a slim chance; but once again, I’ll pick slim over none any day.

Lavon and Naomi whispered for a few moments before he explained the plan to Markowitz. The young man looked toward me with a growing sense of unease, but I just smiled and nodded, hoping that I projected more confidence than I felt.

I remained at our post with Sharon until the others had eased down the hill and begun creeping slowly toward the north. When they disappeared, I tugged on Sharon’s arm and motioned for her to turn around, too.

***

We had gone about fifty yards when we crawled behind a ridge to the rear of our erstwhile shelter — and to show where my mind had gone, I noticed the wet ground for the first time. It had rained, after all.

By then, the tracker had reached the spot where we had split up. He crouched down to study the new trails and then raised three fingers and pointed to his right. Two of the soldiers pressed forward along the path Lavon had taken with the others, while the other two remained with the Bedouin.

I held my breath. Moments later, we heard a woman’s piercing scream. Our two most distant adversaries then charged down the hill and disappeared from view.