Джеймс Миченер - The Source

“You would endanger this whole town in order to rescue yourself?” Yigal asked incredulously.

“There would be no danger. We’d penetrate the last bit of earth at night,” Josephus explained, “then cover the scar with care, and no one would ever know.”

“But if a Roman sentry should happen …”

“We’ve studied the area for some nights,” Josephus began, but Yigal did not listen, for he realized that the brilliant young man had decided upon the use of scalding olive oil at the same time that he was planning his own escape. To save himself Josephus was willing to imperil the entire frontier of the Jewish nation, and Yigal could not understand such behavior. He listened to no more of the intricate plan—how the dirt would not be brought into the town lest it cause panic among the citizens, who might falsely deduce that they were being betrayed—but the final detail of the scheme shocked him back into reality.

“I’ve decided to take with me,” Josephus was explaining, “only two people. My trusted soldier Marcus, and Naaman.”

There was discussion of this, and as Josephus had anticipated, the rescue of the old scholar made the plan palatable to those whose cooperation was required. “Jews always need the leadership of wise men,” Josephus argued, and as he spoke, Yigal gained the impression that the brash young man, so conceited in other matters, truly loved the Jewish religion and the constructive work of leaders like Rab Naaman. Josephus was honestly proposing to rescue the old man because he knew that Naaman was needed if Judaism was to survive.

Finally Naaman himself spoke. “Yigal, brother of my youth, I will see that the scarred earth is hidden so that my town will be safe.” The old man scuffed his feet about, as if he had well visualized the problem, and Yigal wondered: Did he too know of this plan when I tried to protest against the oil?

Yigal was not to find an answer to that subtle question, for that night the diggers began their small tunnel leading upward from the well. Within a few feet they came upon that powerful crisscross of monoliths that the Hoopoe had sunk in the earth more than a thousand years before, and these they by-passed with a lateral cut; and finally, when Vespasian and Titus and Trajan were bearing down with all their power upon the doomed town, the moonless night came when a puncture could be made.

Josephus had given orders that no unusual number of men must be on the walls that night, but Yigal felt that he must satisfy himself as to the escape of the three, so at dusk he put on his prayer shawl and conducted his usual evening prayers at home, playing with his hungry grandchildren till their bedtime. He smiled at his children and watched his wife approvingly as she cleared the table on which food was becoming increasingly scarce. Toward midnight he walked casually to a small house near the well shaft, where a few men were assembled, and there he was finally joined by General Josephus and Rab Naaman, now a bent old man whose bleary eyes could see far into the future. Led by the soldier Marcus the two charismatic Jews moved to the well shaft, where Naaman gave Yigal his blessing: “Somehow God will save this town and His beloved Jews.” Soldiers helped the old man down into the tunnel.

Then Josephus, at the threshold of that scintillating career which would bedazzle Rome—he would betray the Jews of Galilee and would hide with forty survivors from Jotapata in a cave and enter with them into a suicide compact, manipulating the straws so that he could die last, and when all but one lay about him with their throats cut, he would flee; he would surrender to Vespasian, and at the moment when the Romans were to kill him he would astound that general by shouting like an ancient prophet that he foresaw Vespasian as emperor of Rome, and Titus, too; as a result he would be informally adopted by Vespasian and would take his name, under which he would help the Romans crush the Jews in Jerusalem and destroy the nation; in Rome he would live in a house of Vespasian’s as an honorary citizen of the empire with a pension; he would be the personal confidant of three emperors in a row—Vespasian, Titus, Domitian—and he would outlive them all; under their patronage he would write extraordinary books that vilified the Jews and extolled the Romans, but at the same time he would write notable apologetics on behalf of Judaism, so that much of what we know of the Jews during a period of four hundred years comes from his gifted pen; and he would die at last, having described himself repeatedly as trustworthy, brilliant, devoted, and heroic beyond the norm—it was this young general who stood at the edge of the well and extended his hand to Yigal, saying, “I shall rouse the countryside. My diversions will pull Vespasian elsewhere and Makor will never fall.” He kissed Yigal good-bye and said to the men he was betraying, “Do not weep for me. I am a brave soldier and I will take the risk of the tunnel.” Then he fled down the hole.

From the wall, hidden so that Roman sentries could not see him, Yigal watched the dark places in the wadi, not knowing where the earth would heave upward, and after some time, in the moonless night, he saw three figures loom out of the earth. He could not differentiate them one from the other, except that the slowest-moving one stayed at the hole, kicking at the earth and trying to mask the marks, but one of the others dragged him away, so that they could make good their escape.

“O God!” Yigal whispered to himself. “They have not closed the hole.” In anguish he waited till dawn, when in the rising light he could see the betrayal. Even from the wall he could see the telltale mound of earth and the dark circle of the opening. “The Romans will find it within the hour,” he groaned, and he knew that when they did they would follow it down to the well, which would then be lost to the town.

Quickly Yigal summoned all available women and sent them down to fetch extra water, so that all cisterns would be filled and home receptacles too, but that day the Romans did not discover the escape route. Each morning Yigal would walk upon the wall, trying not to stare at the gaping wound in the earth, and each day he would thank God that no Roman had so far spotted it. Once more General Josephus had been proved right: had Rab Naaman lingered at the hole to efface the marks he might have betrayed the entire party; for Josephus had guessed that the Romans would not see such an obvious thing as an open hole.

Now came the last days of the Roman siege. When he was satisfied that the Jews were out of olive oil Vespasian brought his towers back to the walls, and his monstrous ballistas began a systematic bombardment of the town, killing many Jews who tried to protect the battlements. Now there was no calling back and forth between Roman and Jew; there was only the harsh, hard work of assaulters who were determined to knock down tall piles of stone and the resourceful tricks of defenders who were obliged to repulse them. But each day the inevitable end came closer.

With Josephus and Rab Naaman gone, the defense of the town fell wholly on Yigal’s shoulders, and although several faint-hearted Jews came to him advising capitulation, he said, “The life of man is determined when he first places his trust in God. We have been dead ever since we offered our lives to halt Petronius from bringing in his statues of Caligula. What happens in the next weeks can be of no consequence, for if we are dead we have died faithful to our covenant with God.” He would suffer no talk of surrender, and one man who persisted was tied up at Yigal’s command. With a grave dignity that few men attain this average little man, who didn’t own as much as one square of land, kept alive the spirit of his town, serving as general and priest and counselor alike.