The city was crackling with excitement and pulsing with preparations for another battle. Rebel troops, shouting in unison, marched through the streets. Men and women who only a few weeks before had huddled in their homes, trembling with fear, now walked jauntily through the streets. They’d defeated the Romans before; they’d do it again.
A continual clamor of metal against metal filled the air: the hammering of nails, the forging of shields, the pounding of swords on anvils, and the sharpening of blades on the grinding rocks. Thick smoke, laced with the stench of molten iron, billowed out from the metalworking shops.
Yehuda returned from a meeting at the Temple with the news that all of the different rebel groups had joined forces. “We have a unity government,” he told the family. “We’re all Jews now.”
For so long, the rebels had been united only by their mutual hatred. When they fought each other, they identified themselves as Sicarii or Zealots, followers of Eleazer or Ben Ya’acov. But when they fought the Romans, they were all Jews.
“Don’t tell me that the Zealots joined forces with Shimon’s murderers,” Hanan said, shaking his head.
“There’s no choice, Father. The gangs have all the Roman spoils. Besides, they’re the only ones who know how to fight. Where are we going to find experienced soldiers without blood on their hands?”
“It’s your brother’s blood.” Hanan turned away.
“Wait!” Yehuda said, talking to his father’s back. “Don’t you want to hear what else happened at the meeting? Joseph was appointed general of the Galilee.”
Esther dropped her jaw. Joseph a general? What did he know about soldiering?
Hanan swung around. “The Galilee is the first line of defense. That’s the most important post after Jerusalem. The last I heard, he wasn’t even in favor of the revolt.”
“He changed his mind,” Yehuda said. “After our victory, he realized that God wants us to fight.”
“Only prophets know God’s will,” Hanan said, “and Joseph is no prophet, even though he may think he is.”
“You’re wrong about him,” Yehuda said. “He’s the one who united the factions, and he’s the only one who can control them. He has the touch of Midas.”
“Why are you, who only wants to speak the holy tongue, quoting Greek nonsense?” asked Esther.
Hanan nodded. “Don’t forget what happened to Midas. He was killed by his own gift.”
Hanan faded in and out at dinner. He fought to keep his eyelids open; they would droop, and the life seemed to slip out of him for a few seconds. Then he’d open them with a startled, agitated expression and sit back up. After a while, his eyes stayed closed.
“I’m going with Joseph to the Galilee,” Yehuda said to Esther, after their mother had finally helped Hanan to bed for the night and Miriam and Matti were upstairs.
His words were like a punch to her gut. “You can’t leave us!”
“The best way to protect you is to stop the Romans at the front.”
“You’re going to stop the Romans? You’re not a soldier. You’re as thin as a reed. Your neck is barely strong enough to hold up your head, which is heavier each day from all the crazy thoughts you’re putting into it.”
“My faith is strong. It doesn’t matter how strong my body is.”
“It matters when you’re facing a trained Roman soldier!”
“God will bring me back on eagle’s wings for the final redemption, and then we’ll all be together again—Tabitha and my baby boy. Shimon too.”
“I know you want to see them again, but your duty is to the family that’s still alive! Who will bring the tithes home, or teach Matti Torah? What will we live on? We need you more than Joseph does.”
“I’ll be back soon, I promise. I trust Joseph.”
“I don’t!”
Yehuda looked away, and Esther realized that nothing she could say would stop him. He had made up his mind. “When are you going?” she asked.
“Tonight.” He rubbed his hands nervously. “I can’t tell Father; he’d try to stop me. You’ll have to tell him.”
“Tell him what? That you’re abandoning us?”
“Tell him I have to go, that I’m willing to die for our freedom.”
“You think you’re brave because you’re willing to face death? Knowing what you’ll die for is easy. Don’t you have anything to live for?”
Yehuda’s eyes radiated a vehemence that frightened her. “As long as Rome threatens us, there’s nothing worth living for.”
“That’s not what our Book says. God commanded us to choose life.” Esther felt anger burning through her—anger at Yehuda, at Joseph, at Lazar, at the Romans, at all the stupid men in the world and their stupid wars.
That night in bed, she pressed up next to Matti’s warm body and draped her arm around him. He stirred in his sleep and leaned back into her, his head nestled under her chin.
She had lost another brother, but at least she still had Matti.
I’ll always have him. He’ll never leave me, and I’ll never leave him.