The Old Quarter, packed with Hebrew shops and residences, thronged with people of all ages. The men wore long shirts with the tassels of the tallith, the sacred undergarment, hanging below their shirt-hems. The women wore robes and cloaks in vivid greens, reds and yellows, with the occasional widow’s black. Valerius was on patrol with Flavius and their ten legionaries. He didn’t know why he kept thinking about Samara. He’d never had thoughts of a woman haunt him so.
A familiar curly-haired lad popped out of the crowd. It was Walid. The Arab boy often came to the garrison selling dates, dried pears, nuts and tamarinds. To Valerius he was a colorful bit of Jerusalem’s vibrant life. “Sir Centurion,” called Walid. “Quick! It’s the Hebrews. Come this way.”
“What’s the trouble, Walid?” Was this it? The insurrection that Aspergus and Flavius kept saying was inevitable?
“No trouble, sir. They’re about to start dancing. You have to see. Just for enjoyment.”
Dancing. Not insurrection. He quickly handed his plumed helmet and his horse’s reins to Flavius and jumped to the ground. He could use a little diversion from patrolling; besides, on foot he might more readily find Samara.
As he followed Walid through the crowd, even without his tall helmet, his armor made him conspicuous, and he felt uneasy attracting attention.
At a public square with a scarlet canopy at its center, bright Hebrew music with its syncopated rhythms and its stirring blend of major and minor tones filled the air, people swaying and singing. Under the canopy, wedding guests surrounded a young man and woman who danced slowly, gazing into each other’s eyes.
Suspicious faces turned towards Valerius, yet the young couple gave him no notice. They saw nothing but each other, and Valerius smiled. Although Hebrews no longer had their Temple, and were banned from having public ceremonies. Recently, they had begun defying that ban and just scattering if soldiers appeared. Yet not this time. They were continuing this wedding, even in the presence of a Roman officer.
These Hebrews had courage. His brother said that love and romance brought out the best in people.
His eyes grazed the edges of the crowd for Samara. Thinking he glimpsed her across the square, his pulse quickened. Nodded at the wedding guests staring at him, he made a grimace he hoped looked like a smile, and pushed through the crowd in her direction.
No trace of her. That was depressing. Walking towards the place where he left his soldiers, he saw Walid talking to some merchants.
“Walid,” he said, “thank you for showing me this wedding. It’s good for an officer to know the local customs.”
“I thought you’d enjoy seeing the love and happiness, sir.”
“You like weddings, Walid?”
“I like happiness, Sir Valerius. Weddings are especially fun. You’re a serious man, but surely you like happiness and fun, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I have responsibilities.”
“Are you not allowed to have fun?”
“In public, I have to be a serious Roman.”
“And in private? Do you ever have a good time?”
“Yes. I enjoy myself. I have dinners with people sometimes, and good conversations. Mostly I read.”
“Read? Read what?”
“Special books.”
“That does not sound like fun.”
“I enjoy it, Walid.”
“The people you have chats with are lucky. You must be wise. You’re different. You also let me go on asking my questions without getting angry with me.”
“I don’t mind your questions, Walid.”
“That is what makes you different, sir. You’d be welcome at my home. I’d prepare you a fine meal there.”
“Why, thank you, Walid.”
“I shall see you at the garrison later this week, sir. I’ll come with fresh dates and persimmons.” His eyes brightened. “Oh, sir, I have an idea. What if I bring you a troupe of dancers and musicians? They could make your life more fun. In return you could give me something. Perhaps your fine plumed helmet.”
“Walid! Now that’s over the line,” Valerius said sternly, suppressing a smile.
“Over the line even to ask?”
“Even to ask.”
“Are you mad at me, sir?”
“No. You’re just a boy, and you’re learning.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I wish for you to like me, sir. I shall see you in a few days.”
“Walid, wait.” Valerius bent down and whispered to the boy. “Do you know a merchant woman named Samara?”
“Samara beth Isaac. She’s well known, sir. But if you think she’s a trouble for the Romans, she’s not.”
“Say more.”
“It’s true that she’s against the Romans. Yet she’s peaceful and religious. She would do no harm to anyone. They say her father is marrying her to a rich merchant.”
Valerius was alarmed. “When?”
“Soon.”
He stiffened. “Goodbye, Walid.”
Valerius wove through the crowd and the rubble that still hadn’t been cleared from the failed Hebrew revolts of years ago. He knew Flavius and the patrol were nearby. So she’s engaged. I can forget about her.
He noticed four men in Syrian garb huddled together in the crowd about a hundred yards away. When one of them caught sight of him, he muttered urgently to the others.
Valerius felt something was wrong. “Wait!” he shouted in Syrian, and looking startled, the four men fled.
Running after them, Valerius halted at the spot where they’d been standing because he saw a cloth bundle on the ground. From the bundle came the sound of crying.
Seven or eight women, some Hebrew, some Arab, some Persian, some Roman, were hesitantly moving towards the bundle. Quickly Valerius scooped the bundle up. Pulling the swaddling back, he uncovered the baby’s face.
He recognized the weave of the soft wool cloth as a type made by the Hebrews. Gingerly unwrapping further, he saw the child was a male.
Uncircumcised.