Chapter Sixty-Five

Judah

The years of struggle taught us a lesson we should never have learned. We had seen the Gentiles’ ruthlessness and the destruction of our Temple. Every time we rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem, the enemy arrived to knock them down again. We learned that as long as a pagan king ruled our land, our cities might not stand and our families might not survive.

As the commander of the army of Israel, I had to weigh our present victories against future threats. I began to think we might need human help to vanquish the Gentiles permanently. When I heard about the military might of the Romans, I wondered if Israel might benefit from having an ally. The Romans had no king, so their king would not rule over us, and they permitted their allies to worship their own gods. What harm could possibly come from an alliance with such a nation?

With every passing day I saw that the world had greatly changed since Joshua took possession of the Promised Land. He had been charged with ridding the land of the Gentiles, and though he achieved many victories and conquered many pagan cities, he had never been able to completely clear the land. Judea was still occupied by groups of Gentiles, and our world had grown smaller, making us keenly aware of the strong nations outside our borders. These empires were not content to remain in their places, but kept trying to subjugate and tax us. If we could not chase all the Gentiles from our land, how could we possibly subdue the nations who sought our land, revenue, and people?

If we did not find a friend among the nations, one day we might be completely overrun.

Simon and I agreed—we would send Eupolemus and Jason across the Great Sea. They would go to Rome to procure a treaty to bind the people of Rome to Israel as friends and allies.

With that matter settled, I turned to the enemy at hand. Bacchides and Alcimus had returned from Antioch and attacked settlers living in caves around the Sea of Galilee. The traitorous priest was now on his way to Jerusalem with a large number of soldiers and was expected to arrive in time for Passover.

I sent Jonathan to blow the shofar and gather our army. Three thousand men joined me at a place called Eleasa. By the time we were ready to move out, we had learned that Bacchides was traveling with twenty thousand foot soldiers and two thousand horsemen. We determined to intercept them.

As we marched over the rough terrain, I realized we would not enjoy the benefit of surprise. Bacchides had to know we were coming, just as we knew he was traveling through the valley at Berzetho. Our smaller force would travel more quickly, so Bacchides would probably find a sheltered area and camp there while he waited for us.

We reached the valley at the end of the day where we built fires and hobbled our animals. Before lying down to sleep, I walked the perimeter of our camp and prayed over the three thousand men of Israel who had joined me for yet another battle.

I woke in the early hours of morning and shivered with a chill that did not come from the air. I sat up, looked at Johanan and Simon, who slept beside me, then stood to survey the camp. The sight stole my breath. Last night, three thousand men had crowded the slopes and curves of this spot. At dawn, less than one-third remained. Entire companies had vanished in the night.

I heard footsteps and knew Simon stood behind me. “Well, then,” he said, his voice dry. “We are not what we were.”

I tucked my hands into my armpits to warm them. “No.”

“Remember what you told the men at Beth-horon? That what mattered was not the size of the army but the strength of our God?”

Shivering, I nodded.

“Don’t forget that, brother.”

Simon walked away, whistling, and I stood alone to face the men, who were waking in a vastly depleted army.

I walked back to wake Johanan and Jonathan, then pulled a small loaf from a leather pouch Leah had sent with me. The women had remained behind on this trip, and I was glad my wife did not have to see that so many in the army of Israel had lost their faith . . . in me.

Why? We had been outnumbered before. We had faced far worse generals than Bacchides. We had always depended on Adonai for our victory. What had changed? The question troubled me as I climbed a pile of rocks and looked over the valley. In the foreground, my men were stirring; many looked around with astonished faces.

“Gather round, men,” I called as more of them awoke. I tried to sound confident, but I couldn’t escape a sense of despair.

They came toward me, and the same thought seemed to be uppermost in every soldier’s mind. “Judah,” one man called, “we can’t fight today.”

His voice was the forerunner of many more to come.

“Not like this—we are too small a number.”

“We can easily retreat into the mountains. Travel farther south and attack Bacchides closer to Jerusalem.”

“Where’s the enemy going to go? He won’t reach Jerusalem for days. We can go back and gain the high ground.”

“We should retreat.”

“Not today, Judah. We are only a few hundred.”

“Eight hundred.” Jonathan’s authoritative voice silenced the others. “I count eight hundred men.”

I drew a deep breath. “Brothers,” I began, “far be it from us to do such a thing as to flee from the enemy. We came here to fight the Gentiles, and that is what we will do. And if our time has come, let us die manfully for our brethren, and let us not stain our honor. We will not retreat. We will not shrink back from the task before us. We have never given up, so how could we begin now?”

We had never given up, and we had never asked for outside help. Despite this fact, I sent two men to Rome looking for help, trusting in the Romans, a pagan people who neither knew nor worshiped HaShem, the Creator of all.

Leah had tried to point out my folly and I had not listened.

I sank to my knees, my head bowed beneath the crushing weight of guilt. “Adonai, forgive me for looking to anyone but you. I confess that I am guilty of placing my trust in the armies of Rome when you are all we have ever needed. Forgive me, Adonai, and do not judge these faithful men for my sin.”

Rising to face the morning sun, with resignation I drew my sword and pointed to the hills where the enemy waited on the high ground.

The army of Bacchides marched out from their camp and took its stand for the encounter. The general had divided his cavalry into two companies, one on the east and one on the west. His slingers and archers stood at the front of the line, as did his chief warriors.

My men and I studied the opposing formation as we had many times before. My swordsmen knelt as our archers—only about seventy-five men, by my count—nocked their arrows and raised their bows. Behind them, our horsemen studied the field, alert to any movements at the flanks. Bacchides had enough riders to send an entire company to our rear, if he chose to do so. If they managed to get behind us, we would be trapped between two opposing lines, leaving us no way of escape.

I sat astride my favorite stallion. The horse pawed the ground and nickered. “Easy, boy,” I murmured, patting his flank. “We’ll move soon enough.”

From his position on his right wing, Bacchides sat astride a handsome horse. He wore heavy black armor and a helmet on which purple plumes fluttered with every movement.

“I’d wager he’s coming straight for you,” Johanan said, nodding toward Bacchides.

“And Alcimus?”

“He’s in his tent praying, of course.” Johanan’s mouth twisted in a wry grin. “I don’t expect him to spend much time in the actual fight. He’s all glory and no guts, right?”

I snorted. “Right.”

The morning quiet shattered as the trumpeters sounded the charge. Flanked by two companies, Bacchides’s phalanx began to advance. The general drew his sword and pointed it at us.

“That’s it!” I yelled, looking down the line. “Move out!”

My stallion leapt forward at the touch of my heels. I remained steady on his back, my eyes focused on the armored general. Hundreds of riders thundered toward us, churning the dusty earth, and I knew we were at a distinct disadvantage. But our spearmen knew how to unseat a rider by aiming at his mount, so we ought to have those riders on the ground within a few moments.

Since Bacchides and his best warriors were on the right, I rode in that direction, bringing my stouthearted men with me. Fighting with all we had in us, we crushed the right wing and pursued them as far as Mount Azotus of the Great Sea. When those on Bacchides’s left wing realized that the right wing had been decimated, they changed directions and followed me and my men.

The battle became desperate, and many on both sides were wounded and fell.

I remained focused on Bacchides, but he had surrounded himself with skilled men. Clutching my reins with my left hand, I wielded my sword with my right, thrusting and blocking, slicing and blocking. I had to eliminate many before I could reach the general.

I was fighting a one-eyed warrior with a long blade when I felt a rope around my neck. I released the reins and struggled to keep pressure off my throat, but someone at the other end jerked me backward, neatly unseating me. I found myself on the ground as my stallion galloped away. I threw the rope off almost immediately, then whirled around to see who had taken me by surprise.

A small man stood a few steps away, his face crinkled in a wide grin. He seemed to have no concerns as he reeled in his rope and wound it in a circle. I lifted my sword, expecting him to fight. Instead he shrugged and stepped aside for one of his brothers-in-arms.

That had been the point—to get me on the ground. I found myself at the center of a knot of warriors, each of them armored and armed. One of them put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, and before I knew it the knot had enlarged to eight men, all of whom had their attention set on me.

The last man to arrive wore splendid black armor and a plumed helmet, which he removed so that I could see his face.

Bacchides.

“Tell me if I’m wrong,” said the general, “but aren’t you Judah Maccabaeus?”

I raised the point of my sword to the level of his eyes. “I am.”

“Ah, boys, we have won,” Bacchides said with a smile. “We end it all by ending this one.”

While I circled carefully, keeping my eye on the general, someone sliced the back of my knee. I felt warm blood dripping over my skin, though I did not turn.

“That’s one,” Bacchides said. “For Apollonius, the first general you killed.”

I grunted. “He would still be alive if he hadn’t come against Israel.”

The general took another step to the right. I turned and felt a matching slice across the back of the other knee—but this one went deeper, for something in my leg gave way.

“Two,” he said. “That was for Gorgias.”

I gritted my teeth against the pain. “That blind fool? Gorgias marched past us in the dead of night, and our God would not let him see us.”

I raised my left arm to balance the weight of my sword, then I heard a blade sing as it cleaved the air. I felt pressure at my uplifted arm, and when I turned to look, it was gone. “Ahhh!” I couldn’t stop a scream as the sight of a spurting stump sent a tremor down my spine.

“Three.” My tormenter smiled. “For Nicanor.”

“That blasphemer?” Breathing through clenched teeth, I forbade myself to falter. This would be over soon enough.

The general slipped to the left, moving as lightly as a dancer. “You have fought well, Judah Maccabaeus, but your time is over. You and your people must realize Judea is about to change.”

One of the men behind me stepped forward and severed my sword hand with a hatchet. I stared numbly at my hand—lying on the ground a few inches from the sword I had used for HaShem’s glory.

“Four,” Bacchides said more softly. “For Lysias. And this”—he brought his heavy sword up to my eyes and then shifted it until the blade was at my neck—“is for me.”

I lowered my head. Oddly enough I felt no fear or sorrow, only a single regret—that I would die looking at this pagan and not at Leah.

He drew back his arm, gathered his strength, and swung.