Thankfully, Yehuda hadn’t been home when Tiberius had visited. But clearly her father didn’t think he was doing anything wrong; he spoke freely about their partnership. Surely Yehuda would soon discover that their father had a Roman business partner.
During the Sabbath meal when they were all together, Esther’s stomach felt so twisted, she could hardly take a bite. Her father and brother argued about the Romans and the rebels. Yet again.
She had to keep them apart—at least for now. It was too risky for Yehuda to live at home. Maybe if she threatened to expose Yehuda’s secret, he would leave. He could sleep at the study house. Many of his friends already boarded there since the lessons went late into the night and prayers started at dawn.
She felt better now that she had a plan. She didn’t want to force Yehuda to leave home, but it was the only way to keep her father safe. Yehuda could come back home as soon as the ship reached its destination and the cargo was released. By then their father would have his share of the profits, and the partnership would end. The danger would be gone.
That evening, she spoke to Yehuda. She kept her voice low, for fear her parents might overhear.
“I know you joined the Sicarii,” she said, steeling herself for his denial. He would be shocked, of course, that Esther knew.
“Yes, I did. We must be masters of our own fate! I can live under God’s mercy, but how can I live at the mercy of a bloodthirsty Rome?”
Now Esther was the one who was shocked.
“But you didn’t join the Zealots, who just talk, or the other rebels who strut around like pretend soldiers. You joined the most fanatic of all the rebel groups, the ones who are murdering people in the street!”
She still hoped he would say that she was mistaken, that he had merely participated in a few meetings, that the knife she’d seen wasn’t a sica dagger but rather a regular knife, the kind used to slaughter chickens. She hoped that he was still the same brother who used to sing funny rhyming songs to make her laugh.
He looked away with unseeing eyes. She recognized that distant expression of his; he was elsewhere.
“What if Father is on their list?” she finally asked, breaking the silence. “Which side would you choose?”
Yehuda met her gaze. “He won’t be on their list because he’s not working with the enemy. He’s not a collaborator.”
“Of course he’s not a collaborator. But he did buy spices for the Temple from Roman traders. He said it himself.”
“That was then.”
Yehuda pushed past her to go into the courtyard.
This wasn’t how she’d expected the conversation to go. She had to scare him. Otherwise he wouldn’t move out—and then, surely, he would find out about their father’s deal.
“What if I tell Father you’re a Sicarius?” she called after him.
Slowly he turned around. After a pause, he said, “It’s not what you think.”