Salamo did not come immediately to Sepphoris following Cleophas’ death. It was two weeks before the temperamental and artistic brother put in his appearance. He made no apology to Anna, but, to make amends, presented her with an exquisite mirror of polished metal—one of his own unique creations.
This rare gift and his devoted attention to her dispelled her original annoyance with him. He was almost a stranger to her, but she had heard that his boyish charm and ready flattery endeared him to women of all ages in Shiloh. Cleophas claimed he was equally popular with men, due to his delightful way of telling racy stories.
Anna recalled their past meeting. It was when his wife had died, and she and Cleophas left their infant daughter with Judith in Sepphoris. The child’s death during their brief absence was directly connected in Anna’s mind with Salamo. She wondered, did she subconsciously resent him for this reason?
Today, looking at his compelling brown eyes that matched his unruly mass of hair, his ready smile and expressive, artistic hands, Anna guessed he was accustomed to having his way. He was five years younger than she, and Cleophas called him impulsive and egotistical. They were not close brothers. Yet his talented creations of bowls and vases were prized throughout Palestine.
The first thing Anna did was take him to visit Cleophas’ grave. Then, they rested on the grassy hillside and talked of her unusual life. She had not heard from Mary and Joseph, so the uncertainty over their whereabouts with Jesus weighed constantly on her mind.
Finally, Salamo said, “It’s a shame for a lovely woman like you to have lost two husbands. Your next marriage must be to a much younger man.”
Anna frowned. “My next marriage? I won’t marry again. I shall spend my days in healing work and spiritual growth.”
“Nonsense! You are too fascinating to deny another man your companionship.” He took one of her hands and held it tightly.
Anna thought him too lavish with his compliments, too intimate in his attitude toward her. When she tried to pull her hand from his, Salamo kissed it warmly before letting it go.
He became serious … “Are you aware that Galilee is overrun now with legionaries? Herod is close to insanity. His mind is warped by the constant plotting of his sons and the deceit of his unscrupulous wives. The moment he dies, chaos will result. That’s why I came here to protect you. A wealthy widow can be easily victimized.”
He was so sure of himself, Anna thought. “Do you plan on remaining in Sepphoris?” Her voice was intentionally flat.
“You’ll need someone to manage your affairs. I know you get a substantial income from your flocks. You own that Nazareth home which you keep for Mary, and you’ve gotten other properties from my two brothers.” He smiled and stretched out full length on the ground. “I like it here.”
She answered sharply, “I need no caretaker! I adjusted to widowhood once before.”
“It’s different this time, Anna. You weren’t prepared for Cleophas’ death. You dare not be alone in the violent times ahead.”
Anna was dumbfounded by his determination to take over her life. She needed time to figure out how to cope with his audacity.
He sat up and continued unabashed with his plans. “I will open a shop similar to that of Cleophas’ in the market place. I have many fine art pieces and beautifully crafted jewelry. I know your servants use a separate building, which I’ll take over as my workshop. Judith and Barnaby can move into your large house.”
He rose and pulled her to her feet. As they walked toward the house, he slipped his arm around her waist. “Didn’t you know that Cleophas asked me to take care of you if anything happened to him?”
She shook her head and withdrew from his arm.
“He should have told you. Now, be a darling, and give me a chance to help you. You’re still in shock, I can see. When the violence breaks out, you’ll be glad I’m here.”
“What I need, Salamo, is time to readjust my life. I don’t need you. I really don’t want you. Please don’t put pressure on me.”
Salamo kept silent until they entered the house and were seated in the living area. He took a new tack. “You look so sad, Anna, darling. What you need now is more excitement in your life. I suspect there’s a secret side to you—one quite daring.” He laughed softly. “I didn’t sit around mourning after my wife’s death. I joined a resistance group. No, not the radical Sicariis. My men work on new projects to help our people gain independence.”
“That sounds dangerous,” Anna said with alarm. “Don’t get me involved in your endeavors.” She wished he had never come here.
Salamo continued as if she had agreed. “That little house of yours will be great for my conspirators to meet in regularly.”
“I don’t like it at all! I don’t want strange men coming into my yard to plan a revolt! Go home, and work out your noble plans there.”
“Darling, darling. We have to know how we can work most effectively when Herod dies. Then the country will burst into flames.”
“I don’t want you here. Rome’s military might will destroy all opposition in no time. You have no weapons to match their swords.”
Salamo put on a pious air that disgusted her. “We are people of God. They are abominable heathens, murderers, parricides, and sodomites.” He jumped up and flailed the air. “We’ll find a way.”
Anna was stunned. “You are too hotheaded. We need moderate leaders. How would Galilee survive if Rome didn’t buy our flax and olives?”
Salamo looked aghast at her. “So you are resigned to continued Roman occupation?”
“Yes, until the Messiah can start his active ministry.”
“What nonsense! You think we should wait until your grandson is grown? He may not even be alive! When I was in Jerusalem recently, thousands of people had gathered on the Mount of Olives to revolt against Herod. Resistance is gaining momentum in every province.” His anger subsided, and he began to plead. “Please, Anna, don’t be selfish. Let my men come here quietly to make our plans. The Romans must not suspect our intentions.”
“What intentions?” Anna was visibly angry.
“To put an end to the Herodian dynasty. They aren’t true Jews, Anna. They’re Idumeans, not descendants from Abraham. Herod’s sons will be as vile as their father. They’ll continue to bleed us white to maintain their lavish, dissolute lives! Have you ever seen Herod’s palace in Jericho?”
She shook her head.
“It’s an enormous, vaulted structure of Hellenistic style. There are rooms at numerous levels, colonnaded courts, loggias, and several swimming pools. Think what it would look like all in flames!”
Anna was shocked. She jumped up and walked into the courtyard. Salamo followed her. Flushed with anger, she asked him, “What good would destroying a palace do for our people?”
Salamo laughed and changed like a chameleon. “It was just a fanciful idea, Anna. Don’t take me seriously. I can dream can’t I? Tomorrow you must show me your accounts. I’ll be keeping your books for you. You mustn’t get in trouble with the Roman data gatherer!”
Anna sat down on a bench to figure out how to cope with this relative. He was playing a game with her, she knew, but why? She was desperately lonely, and he did everything with such good humor, it might be comforting to have him there. He said a revolt was about to hit Galilee. She would need a man for protection.
He came to her and dropped at her feet. “All you need to do is meditate and pray and continue your good deeds. I’m here to take care of you.” He took her hands again and kissed them. Then he held them hard against his cheek.
Anna wished her sister, Esmeria, would come and advise her what to do with Salamo. But she was seriously ill and unable to travel. Anna admitted she was desperately lonely. Why hadn’t Julian written to her? Salamo worked so fast. Before she could come to a firm decision, he had cleared the two servants from the small house and moved his belongings into it. It was all done with such speed and adventurous attitude that she felt foolish protesting.
When her mourning period was over, Anna realized with a sense of shock that her life was no longer her own. Salamo supervised her every move, charming her, waiting on her like an eager lover, cajoling her into agreeing with his decisions. He flattered her beyond expectation, and kissed her whenever she approved of his actions. She was sure she was being lured into a trap. Yet, she found herself yielding more and more often to his requests.
Weekly, his confederates came there to engage in lively discussions. She could hear their intense arguments far into the night. They were radicals, no doubt about that, yet Salamo never mentioned these meetings and continued to ingratiate himself with her.
What bothered her most was that he took to wearing Cleophas’ clothes, which she had intended to give away. Then he sweet-talked Judith into cooking lamb and other meats for him, even though he knew Anna ate no flesh. She tried to be fair about this. He was no Essene and so could not be expected to follow her beliefs. Yet, it was pleasant to share meals with this delightful companion. He went shopping with her, and, on the Sabbath, he read to her the wonderful words of the old prophets. The neighbors frequently asked why they hadn’t married.
She knew why she didn’t surrender totally to him. She was waiting to hear from Julian. He had promised to return in six months, but a year and a half had passed with no word from him.
One day she asked Judith, “Has any message come for me from Rome since Salamo arrived?’
“Yes, there have been at least two letters—one just a couple of days ago.”
“Did you see them?”
“No, Salamo took them and tucked them into his girdle before hurrying to his room.”
Anna flushed. Was he stealing Julian’s letters to her?
The next evening, she decided to ask Salamo about them. She said, “I’ve been expecting a letter from Rome. You may not know that Herod’s estranged daughter, Salina, lives there. Have you seen such a letter?’
Salamo’s face was an innocent mask. “I know nothing of a letter to you, Anna darling. I have received several from my copper supplier.”
She was stymied. She waited until he went into town to his shop and then searched the room. She found no letters, but there were many sketches of Herod’s palace and grounds in Jericho. Salamo had not drawn them, so Anna dismissed their significance from her mind.
Salamo occupied more and more of her attention. One evening, he took her out into the garden and after she sat down, he dropped to the ground at her feet.
He asked with that innocence she had come to recognize as the prelude of something special, “Do you ever wish you had another child?”
“Of course. I long desperately for Mary and Jesus, yet I’ve had no word from them these many years.”
“Anna, I’ve restrained myself from telling you how deeply I love you. Will you marry me so you can have that child you want?”
“You think it possible at my age?’
“It would be fun finding out, wouldn’t it?” he asked with a roguish grin.
She hedged, “I must wait a little longer.” She thought of Julian. Had he fallen in love with a Roman woman and had no intention of coming back to her? “I admit I’ve grown dependent on you. Yes, I care about you very much. And I would love to bear another child. Firstborn Mary was with me only three years; Mary Cleophas lived less than two years.”
“I can’t wait any longer, Anna. You are my constant passion. Tomorrow I’ll go to Jerusalem on business. When I return, we will be married.” He was so confident of himself. He sprang to his feet and lifted her into his arms. Then he kissed her hair, her cheeks, her nose, teasing her to raise her lips to him. When she did, she decided to wait no longer for Julian’s return.
Two days after Salamo left, sensational news rocked Palestine. Herod the Great was dead! His legacy, however, brought no cheers from his subjects. The Roman colonies were split up among three sons, each born of a different mother.
Herod Antipas was named tetrarch of rebellious Galilee and the region east of the Jordan, known as Perea. He was a wicked, licentious man who secretly dreamed of ruling as great a realm as his father. Archelaus, more cruel even than Herod the Great, became ethnarch of Judea, Samaria, and Idumea—areas where most of the people lived. Finally, to Philip, a learned man who spoke only Greek and lived like a Greek, went the poor area in the north and east of the Sea of Galilee. This was the domain of the brigands.
During Salamo’s absence, Anna stayed indoors, not daring to leave the premises. The age-old dream of liberation from the Romans sprang up everywhere. A man named Judas the Gaulonite placed a crown on his head in Galilee, encouraging various factions to revolt. The people became increasingly volcanic. Then, the news came that Herod’s mansion in Jericho has been burned to the ground and his stable of prized horses stolen. Anna remembered the sketches in Salamo’s room and his weekly meetings with radicals. The political fury he had promised was here.
When Salamo returned to Sepphoris, he was unusually talkative. Between bits of cheese and bread, he related to Anna the events that had taken place in Jerusalem.
“I got there just after Herod’s funeral and joined the crowds in the Court of the temple. We heard the new ethnarch, Archelaus, make his first address. He asked the people, ‘How can I please you?’ Their answer was to be expected: ‘Cut taxes, and punish Herod’s cruel advisers.’”
“Did he consider this?” Anna asked.
Salamo shook his head. “He became furious and refused to hear any more pleas. The crowd got angry and rioted. A former slave of Herod incited many to set fire to his palace.”
“Were there people killed?”
“More than 3,000 died in the court. That fired my men to seek revenge. We went to Jericho and …”
“Sacked the palace,” Anna finished his sentence. “What became of the magnificent horses Herod kept there?”
“I have one of them outside. There was nothing to be gained by destroying them. Everyone there took one and rode off.”
“You had planned this for a long time, hadn’t you?’
Salamo saw she disapproved, so he justified his act by saying, “The refusal of Archelaus to listen fired us into action.”
Anna sighed, saying, “Revenge is never pretty. There’s a fanatical side to you, Salamo, that worries me.”
“You don’t approve of our avenging all those deaths by burning down Herod’s extravagant villa?”
“There will always be other palaces for you to burn—Masada, Caesarea, Herodium. When will it end?’
They walked out into the garden and continued to argue. Anna asked him then, “Who has the courage to tell Augustus to come to his senses and get rid of the Herodian dynasty in Palestine?”
Salamo answered in a triumphant voice, “I will!” He paused for a moment, then added, “I will organize a group to sail to Rome and demand an audience with Caesar.”
Anna was stunned. She bit her lip, angry at herself for baiting him. “I don’t want to lose you. It would be a dangerous mission.” She took his hand and pulled him down on a bench beside her.
He took advantage of her now, saying, “We must get married tomorrow!”
Anna hesitated. “Won’t things have quieted down in a month?”
“I can’t wait that long, my love. My men and I must sail within the month. Now is the time to bring our plea to Rome. You’ve kept me in torment long enough. You must bear me a son. I hope he will one day be able to say, ‘It was my father who faced Caesar Augustus and brought about an end to the Herods.’”
Salamo was so intense and persuasive, Anna consented to the marriage. Her life became suddenly romantic and full of surprises. Salamo didn’t disappoint her. He was a passionate lover, far more ardent and demanding than either of his brothers. Her longing for Julian faded under Salamo’s ardor. He also was intent on proving he was a better husband than his brothers. Anna convinced him he was, so he became happier and less frustrated. He kept delaying his voyage to Rome, waiting to be assured that Anna had conceived. When she did, he promptly gathered up his five most articulate men and told them to pack for the voyage.
He explained to Anna, “Forgive me for leaving you now, but Archelaus announced he will raise taxes at harvest time. The farmers can’t take it. Revolt is spreading. I can’t stay here, creating beautiful jewelry, while people have no bread and are forced into slavery. Someone has to be bold enough to face Augustus Caesar with the truth.” He waited for her approval.
Anna put her hands over her face for a moment. A deadly fear came over her, and she didn’t want Salamo to see it. “I am proud of you, and will pray daily for your success. I shall be lonely.”
“It’s for my unborn child I’m doing this. My mission can’t wait.”
Anna sensed he had more to tell her. He carried a burden she didn’t understand. “Let us walk and enjoy our last twilight together,” she said.
He took courage from the dim light to relieve his thoughts. “Anna, my brothers thought an artist’s works do little to help people who are crushed with the might of Caesar. This voyage to Rome is a chance to prove I can do more. Joachim called me an amusing storyteller and a womanizer. He was an unrelenting Pharisee. And Cleophas, a cold-bath-a-day Essene, never thought I was devout enough.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me, Salamo. I’m grateful for the happiness you’ve brought me and for the child I carry.” She realized then that his carefree attitude and amusing stories were a cover for his deep inferiority. He didn’t think he was the equal of his brothers. He had married her to prove he was.
She continued, “Everyone in Sepphoris is so proud of what you’re about to undertake. If anyone can influence Augustus, you can. Will you bring him one of your exquisite copper bowls?”
Salamo’s frowning face broke into a smile. “I hadn’t thought of that. What a good idea!”
The next morning, Salamo and his company of men departed for Caesarea, riding the horses rescued in the torching of the palace in Jericho. They hoped to board a waiting Venetian ship, which would take them across the Mediterranean to Rome. It would be a hazardous journey, whether in a passenger ship, equipped with a single square sail, or a cargo vessel that put in at every island for trading purposes. The fall storms had begun, and a severe one could hold a ship prisoner in port for a couple of weeks. Salamo had no idea how long the journey would take.
Anna had frequent nightmares worrying what might happen to him. As her child grew within her, she wondered if it would be as beautiful and bright as Mary. Or would her third child be as fragile as Mary Cleophas?
Her sister, Esmeria, warned her that births so late in life often produced deformed children. “Prepare for an idiot!” she said. Anna flinched, and her temper flared. “God gave me this child to replace the other two. She will be perfect, I know!
* * *
The disaster that Salamo had foreseen struck Sepphoris shortly after his departure. Judas, the Gaulonite rebel, gathered a rough army of brigands and took over Sepphoris during the absence of Herod Antipas. They torched the royal palace and began stoning and beheading those who resisted them.
Herod called on Varus, Governor of Syria, to rescue his domain. Under his son’s command, he sent first Thracian archers and Galatian infantry to ring the town and prevent movement in or out. Only the rich Pharisees and scribes, who paid huge sums of money, were allowed to escape.
These foreign soldiers were undisciplined. Ordered to take all rebels prisoner for sale as slaves, they became more and more murderous. The brigands put up so much opposition that Varus ordered the town burned to the ground. First, the markets were destroyed, then the soldiers moved into the residential districts to burn everything they could.
Barnaby, Anna’s loyal old servant, barely escaped with his life when he ventured into the outskirts of Sepphoris. He told Anna, “We have no way to defend ourselves. Once the town is in ashes, the bandits will come into the hills to set up camp.”
“Hide in the brush, Barnaby. Judith, stay here with me. There must be a way to save our lives.”
Anna walked to the edge of the hill where she had a good view of the flaming city. People ran, screaming, out of burning houses. Children were struck to the ground by enraged soldiers. Women were grabbed and carried off to be raped. Crowds of men were put in chains and dragged away. Terrified donkeys and camels ran wildly, in their attempt to escape the holocaust. Before burning the taverns, soldiers stole skins full of wine and drank greedily as they staggered among the dead and injured.
Judith clung to Anna, crying, “There’s no place for us to be safe!”
Anna stood as if frozen, reaching out, out into the ethers for a solution.
She spoke as if to herself, repeating the words of the forty-sixth psalm, which she had memorized as a select virgin in the temple. “Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.”
Then she turned to Judith. “These men are souls sent forth into life by the heavenly father. Let us prepare food for them. Bake bread quickly, boil eggs, and I will mix a refreshing drink for the hungry men.”
Judith looked at her in disbelief. “They will kill us!
Anna spoke quietly. “The God of Jacob is our refuge. Show no fear. We are centered in God’s universe. He will not desert us.”
Anna’s hands trembled as she filled a jug with red wine diluted with water and flavored with honey. Julian liked this beverage and called it posca, she recalled. There was a table in the front court and, on it, Anna set metal goblets and the large wine container.
While Judith quickly baked flat loaves of bread on the embers in the fireplace, Anna cut up cheese and spread out platters of dried fruits, olives, and the hard-boiled eggs.
She told Judith, “These men are bandits, totally lawless, yet we must treat them like others of our faith. We have only a few hours to prepare for them. There is no place for all of us to hide. Barnaby is an old, crippled man now. He would be killed at once, so it is up to us to persuade them we are alone and to let the house stand.”
Judith was astounded. “We will be raped and then killed,” she said.
“Stay out of sight in the house. I will greet them alone.”
Another hour dragged by before she saw a group of nine men desert the smoking, crushed town and point toward her home set high on the hill. She waited by the table for them, speaking before any one of them could.
“I know you are all exhausted, so I prepared food and drink for you. Please sit down here and serve yourself.” She was surprised she was able to keep her voice steady. “Here is red wine. I knew you’d be thirsty.”
The unexpectedness of her gesture confused the dirty, unshaven molesters. “Where is your husband?” the leader demanded.
“He has gone to Rome to plead for your rights with Caesar. Upon his return, I will tell him how well-behaved you men were in the midst of the carnage below.”
The astonished men looked at each other and grinned, then hurried to the freshly baked bread, cheese, and fruit. They soon emptied the jug of diluted wine as Judith came out of the house with a pan of honey cakes. Her face had a terrified look.
“Why don’t you give us some meat?” the leader asked roughly.
“I’m an Essene, and it is against our belief, you know, to eat flesh.”
The other men guffawed at that, but the leader stopped their laughter. “That’s all right,” he said, weakening.
Anna again took the initiative, saying, “Whenever you are hungry again, you will know we will give you food here. There’s no house left in the town below.” Anna sensed that they had planned on burning down her house as they had all the others. She could see that the leader was befuddled by her unexpected hospitality and fearlessness.
“Line up, men!” he ordered his dirty followers. Then he said to Anna, as if he had to account to her for his actions, “This city has been plundered, and our men have all the slaves they can control. We want to go to Nazareth before the day’s over and torch it, too.” He forced an unpleasant laugh.
Anna pointed to the smoking town below. “Who are those new soldiers? Aren’t those your shackled prisoners they’ve taken?’
The brigand’s face showed fear. “Syrians! The Romans have called in Varus’ best troops. We’re beaten here.” He turned to his ragged men. “Let’s head for Nazareth!”
Seizing what food they could handle, the group disappeared among the trees. Anna was worried about Barnaby. He was a frail old man now and moved slowly. She waited a half hour, then set out to find him by calling his name as she went. He soon answered her as he emerged from a small cave in the hillside.
“Are you both unharmed?” he asked fearfully.
When Anna nodded and smiled, he came to her, and she embraced him warmly. He continued, “I prayed every moment for your and Judith’s protection. I feel ashamed for having deserted you.”
“No, no. The order had gone out to kill all men—young or old. Seeing you with us would have meant more danger for us.”
“Then you think my prayers saved you?’ His expression was so full of hope that Anna nodded vigorously.
“Barnaby, you had great influence with God. He heard your prayers because you are a truly good man. Come, Judith will serve you a delicious meal in celebration of our lives.”
Anna retired to her bedroom, in a near state of collapse. She managed to whisper, “Great God of all, you directed me to do the right thing. For this, I owe you our lives.”