Seated on a courtyard bench at Zipporah’s house, Samara was writing energetically with a quill on a papyrus page, her hands stained with ink, her accounting sheets spread out around her on the ground. She was getting a great deal done quickly, and although it was a bit nerve-wracking, it was satisfying. A loud whisper came from the street: “Samara! Open the gate!”
Her cousin Ephraim rushed in, out of breath.
“I just overheard Gershon talking to his father Azrael. Your father’s pushing the marriage up. You’re due to be married next week!”
The news felt like a hard blow to her chest. “Absurd!”
“No, really,” said Ephraim. “That’s the plan. In seven days.”
“My father had given me three months! He can’t have made such a drastic shift!”
“I believe it was only today that he decided on the change. Maybe he was pressured by Hod’s family. Your father’s on his way here now to tell you about it, and maybe to apologize.”
She put her scrolls aside. “You’re going to have to take these account books of mine and finish them, as well as your own.”
“Because you’ll be married and out of our family business. I know.”
“No, Ephraim. I’m never going to be married to Hod! You have to take over my books because I’m leaving town.”
“Where are you going? To one of the villages for fabric or pottery?”
She said gently, “Ephraim, I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just say it. I’m in love with a Roman. I’m going to Africa with him.”
He paused, then laughed. “Samara, you always say I know how to make you smile. Now look at you, telling me the funniest story I could imagine.”
“Ephraim, listen. It’s Valerius. The Legate. He’s going to do good for our people. In Africa we’ll be sending back enough goods to make Judea rich.”
He looked at her strangely. “You seem to mean what you’re saying.”
“Don’t you see? This is why my father has moved up my wedding date. I’ve already told him that I’m engaged to marry a Roman and that I’m leaving Jerusalem to spread our trading business into Africa. My father is only doing this to spite me and to try to control me. I’ll not let that happen! He’s hoping to tie me safely to a Hebrew husband before I can leave with Valerius. It’s hard to believe he thinks that would be enough to stop me.”
Startled, Ephraim murmured, “I’m starting to feel that you really mean it.” He yelled, “Cousin! No! You can’t leave us!”
“Dear Ephraim,” she said, “you’ll see. Have patience and trust the situation. This is going to change everything for the better.”
At the inn, Samara sat waiting for Valerius, nervously tapping her fingers on the table. As soon as she saw him, she stood and half-shouted, “We have to leave immediately!”
He blurted out, “Why?”
“Because my marriage to Hod has been moved up to seven days from now.”
“You can’t mean it.”
“Oh, they’re serious about it.”
“What are the consequences if you refuse?”
“The clan may even place me under house arrest.”
“To keep you from fleeing to me? Because they know about you and me?”
She nodded. “I told Father and my cousins, and the news spread quickly.”
“Wouldn’t your father stop them?”
“He might like to, but may not be able to.”
“Then I’ll get my affairs in order and we’ll leave right away.”
“Many thanks, Valerius. There is a duty I must do before we leave. I have to call on the chief Sanhedrin rabbi at Jabneh. With great difficulty, I’ve talked my cousins into taking me there.”
“Jabneh? That’s half a day’s journey each way. At least let me come along to protect you.”
“No. You stay and get ready. In two days we leave for Africa.”
Valerius dipped his reed pen in ink and scrawled urgently, then stopped, crumpled and tossed the parchment, then started again. This letter would have to save his skin.
Dear Marcus, I must leave Judea temporarily to make a crucial and beneficial journey to Africa. I have a friend, Samara beth Isaac, whom I must escort out of the city quickly, because I am her only guarantee of safety. I would appreciate your explaining my situation to the Emperor and making whatever excuses for me you might find effective.
You and I have always wondered what nations and peoples may lay beyond Rome’s awareness. I’ve heard tales of the African kingdoms you and I talked about, the ones mentioned in Hebrew scripture. I intend to find out about them firsthand, and I ask your blessing on my voyage. I would of course, with Samara, who is a skilled merchant trader, seek to open them up to Roman commerce which would be a substantial financial benefit to Rome.
As for my replacement, Carolus Cominius, our old friend and my Vice-Legate, is going to be perfect. I have trained him well. He has lived here half his life and knows everyone.
I plan to leave as soon as possible.
There. He exhaled with relief. It was done.
The letter would take six days to get to Rome. By then he and Samara would be well out of Judea, maybe even into the Atbai: a horrific place, by rumor. Yet that was good, because once they got that far, they couldn’t be pursued easily.
Blowing on the wet ink, he suddenly remembered he had told Samara he would meet her at the inn again that day. He was trying to do too much. He swore loudly and shouted for Rufus.
Thrusting the papyrus scroll into Rufus’ hands, he said, “Put the official seal on this letter and send it out to Marcus. And get ready. We’re leaving Judea in two days.”
“Two days? For where? For how long?”
“Across the desert and south through the Atbai. I don’t know for how long.”
Rufus laughed. “Sorry, sir. I misheard you. It sounded like you said we’re going through the Atbai.”
“Yes, the Atbai.”
“But, sir, no one goes there. There are demons down there!”
Valerius stood and towered over Rufus, fixing him in his gaze. “Rufus, if you were set upon by demons, you’d make business deals with their men and make love to their women. Demons would be smart to flee from a man like you. That is why I must take you with me.”