The Third Day Read online

  Markowitz disappeared for a moment before Lavon managed to spot him going into the closest body of water. He reached out and pulled him back.

  “Not yet,” he said. “Let’s stay together and get the lay of the land first.”

  Markowitz complied, though not for long. Once more, the incoming throng surged behind us and pushed us apart.

  The next time I spotted him, he had already traveled a fair distance and was making a beeline up the steps toward the open plaza of the Temple Mount, with the Professor and Lavon trailing close behind.

  ***

  By then, I couldn’t do much else than go along with the general flow of the crowd, and after a few minutes of being jostled about, I found myself in the animal market.

  The moneychangers had returned to business with a vengeance, and this morning they were taking no chances.

  Guards of the Temple police, conspicuous in their black helmets and armed with spears and cudgels, stood roughly ten feet apart behind each row of tables. Disturbances today would prove remarkably unhealthy, something I was to observe all too clearly later on.

  I made one more quick search for the others before turning my attention back to the marketplace itself. Though appearing chaotic at first glance, I could see, upon closer inspection, that the Temple authorities possessed a firm grasp of operational logistics.

  Servants traveled in a one-way path through specially designated corridors, carrying fresh sacrificial inventory to the vendors from the lower levels and then removing the empty cages to a holding area, where other attendants gathered them and returned them to stocking pens below.

  I found the overall layout quite clever as well. Worshipers emerging from the mikvas entered immediately into a one way labyrinth of tables and cages before pouring out into the Temple courtyard.

  Taken as a whole, the place bore an uncanny resemblance to the departure terminals of modern international airports, whose designers shamelessly funnel passengers through a maze of duty free stores before allowing them to reach their destination gates.

  In truth, the only real difference was the smell.

  I had stepped aside to avoid two boys wrestling with a recalcitrant lamb when I heard shouting in the direction of the Temple itself.

  Instinctively, I turned my head to see what the commotion was about – and could only grit my teeth and swear.

  Next to the soreg, a meter high barricade that delineated the boundary between the Temple Mount’s common area and the part reserved exclusively for Jews, an angry mob had surrounded Markowitz and the Professor. Lavon struggled to push his way through, and he reached them only with great difficulty.

  A young priest standing nearby appeared to be the only thing holding the agitated crowd back from a violent response. The trouble was, the kid looked as nervous as I felt. I wasn’t sure he could restrain them for long.

  I gave quiet thanks that I had managed to slip my remaining transmitter into Lavon’s hands only a few moments before we all got separated, and I managed to get my earpiece seated just in time to hear Markowitz try once more to explain what he wanted.

  “Tell these people I’m Jewish,” he said. “I want to see the Temple.”

  Lavon glanced around, looking for a way out, though it didn’t take long for him to realize that attempting to back away would only prove their evil intentions in the minds of the crowd.

  Seeing that he could only take one action, and live, he stood tall and spoke with the most authoritative voice he could muster.

  “This man is Jewish,” he shouted.

  Upon hearing this, the crowd grew quieter. The agitated murmuring did not entirely disappear, but at least a few of them seemed to understand, thank God.

  The young priest did not, though to my great relief he signaled for a colleague to come over and help. As far as I could tell, the new man’s clothing carried no insignia of rank, but I could see immediately that his colleagues deferred to him. More importantly, his age and demeanor had a calming effect on the mob.

  “How may I assist you?” he asked.

  His voice rose barely above the level of a whisper, which forced the crowd to become even quieter in order to hear. I let out a sigh of relief. Whoever he was, this priest clearly understood human nature.

  Lavon pointed to Markowitz. “This is a man of Israel.”

  The old man stared at them for what seemed like an eternity before asking where they were from.

  “Norvia,” Lavon replied. “A land far to the north, beyond Germania.”

  The priest nodded as if this was a sufficient explanation for their white skins and light hair, but I could see he wasn’t entirely convinced.

  He studied the three of them with genuine curiosity. “Tell me, how did sons of Abraham find their way to such a place?”

  Lavon spun him the same tale he had told me earlier; about exiles and Lost Tribes and Babylonians long ago.

  To my surprise, the man seemed to go along with the story.

  I learned later that the Babylonians who destroyed Solomon’s Temple made a practice of incorporating talented young men from captive nations into their administrative structure, and that some of the Jewish exiles – notably Daniel of the celebrated lion’s den – had risen to high positions in both the Babylonian government and the Persian empire that followed.

  Lavon had been right. Many of the exiles never went back.

  Go figure.

  The old priest then focused his gaze on Markowitz. “What have you been taught regarding the ways of God?’ he asked.

  “What are they saying?” asked Markowitz.

  “He wants to know what you’ve learned of the Jewish faith,” said Lavon.

  Markowitz’s face brightened as he explained his Bar Mitzvah; as if the traditions of twentieth century Manhattan would be the same as those of two thousand years before.

  “He says that he learned the ten commandments of Moses,” Lavon replied. “Nothing more.”

  “He acts like he wants to tell us more,” said the priest.

  “He is an emotional fellow,” said Lavon. “He is reciting each of the commandments. He rarely has the opportunity. So few in Norvia show any interest in the ways of his God.”

  “What God do you worship in Norvia?” asked the old man.

  Lavon hesitated. I suppose he hadn’t expected this question, at least not under these circumstances. Finally, he said, “we worship the God who created our forests and the seas.”

  It seemed a safe enough answer.

  The priest pondered this information for a moment; then he turned to his colleague, gesturing toward Markowitz’s tunic.

  The young man began to lift it, but Markowitz pushed him back.

  “Be still,” said Lavon as he realized what they were doing. “They need to check.”

  “Check what?”

  “That you’re circumcised. That’s one thing all Jews would have done, even in exile.”

  I held my breath as priest took a quick peek.

  I needn’t have worried. The man let go of Markowitz’s tunic and the elder stretched out his arms.

  “Welcome brother,” he said.

  At that point, the murmurings of the crowd ceased and most of them drifted away. Lavon breathed a visible sigh of relief. I did, too, for that matter.

  Moments later, the young priest turned to the archaeologist, intending to repeat the inquiry.

  “No,” said Lavon. “I am here only because no one else knows this man’s language. I came to assist my friend in finding his way home.”

  “For that, we thank you,” said the senior priest.

  Then he directed his attention to Bryson, who up to that point had remained silent. “What about him?”

  “He is with me,” said Lavon. “He is also not a son of Abraham, but he traveled with us, in order to protect our friend on his journey.”

  The elder repeated his thanks; then turned back to Markowitz. “What is his name?”

  Lavon asked Markowitz what his middle name was
, hoping it was a good Old Testament one, I suppose.

  It was.

  “Benjamin,” said Markowitz.

  “I am Nicodemus.”

  I watched Lavon stare for a brief instant with open astonishment, though he quickly caught himself. If the old man had noticed, he chose not to comment.

  “Can I go in now?” asked Markowitz.

  Lavon translated.

  “Have you washed?” asked Nicodemus.

  Markowitz shook his head.

  “Then that is your first step. After you have purified yourself, purchase your sacrificial offering – a lamb, if you can afford one; a dove if you cannot.”

  Nicodemus paused. I could see him assessing our party’s clean and well sewn clothing.

  “It appears that God has favored you with prosperity. I would suggest a lamb,” he said.

  “Of course,” said Lavon. “Then what?”

  “Return here with his offering, and I will show him what he must do. He will be several hours inside.”

  “What about us?”

  Nicodemus directed their attention to an opening in the soreg at the southwest corner of the Temple. “You may wait there for his return.”

  Lavon bowed to the old man. “We thank you for your kindness. I will return shortly with the lamb.”

  “He should select it himself;” said Nicodemus. “It is his sacrifice after all.”

  Chapter 34

  I ran forward to catch up as they headed back to the vendors’ booths and guided them into a relatively isolated corner.

  Lavon’s face had turned pale, in the manner typical of a near miss survivor whose mind has finally begun to soak in a full understanding of how close they had all come to total disaster.

  Before I could say anything, he grabbed Markowitz by the lapel of his robe and threw him against a stack of empty cages, holding the fabric up to his neck as if to choke him.

  “Are you trying to get us all killed?”

  I glanced around at the surge of worshippers and moved to separate them. Personally, I wanted to throttle the impulsive fool as well, but I could see that others were beginning to take notice. The last thing we needed was to create another scene.

  “Where is the harm?” he protested. “That priest welcomed me as a brother. And don’t forget: I am one!”

  Lavon threw the handful of cloth back at him in disgust, took a couple of deep breaths, and then lit into Markowitz a second time. I let him vent for a moment; then suggested that we all slip away and head back to the Antonia, while we still could.

  The archaeologist shook his head. “It won’t work. Too many people heard Nicodemus tell him to buy a lamb and come back. Some of them are undoubtedly still watching. We can’t take that chance.”

  “What about me?” I asked.

  Lavon studied my torn tunic and thorn-shredded arms and calves.

  “You never got close to the soreg, so they can’t accuse you of trying to get inside. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you’re my servant, and that I’m sending you away. I think you’ll be OK.”

  He walked over to a merchant’s table and tossed out a couple of coins. I watched him take a small scrap of what looked like parchment and write. When he came back, he handed it to me.

  I studied the precise Greek lettering.

  “It’s a request for the sentries to let you in to see Publius,” he said.

  “I can’t read it.”

  “That shouldn’t matter. Most slaves were illiterate. You have your orders, though I’d do my best not to show the note to anyone on the Temple Mount. Some fanatic might think you’re a spy.”

  Wonderful. I couldn’t tell whether he was serious or not.

  “What will you and Henry do?” I asked.

  “Exactly what Nicodemus told us to do: sit there at the corner and wait for Ray to finish his sacrifice.”

  He paused for a moment.

  “Nicodemus. I can’t believe that’s who we were talking to.”

  “What is so important about him?” asked Bryson.

  “John 3:16,” replied Lavon, as if that explained everything.

  It didn’t, of course. Not having grown up with the church, the Professor and Markowitz associated the verse only with rainbow headed freaks holding up signs behind the goal posts at football games.

  “It’s one of the most well known passages in the New Testament,” said Lavon. “‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.’ That’s who Jesus was talking to when he spoke those words – Nicodemus. He’s a respected elder, a member of the Sanhedrin.”

  He turned to Markowitz. “And a man who saved your butt.”

  ***

  Considering that I also wanted to save mine, I didn’t waste any time making my way back to the fortress. I stuck the receiver in my ear as I walked out the eastern gate toward the ravine, and I could only laugh as Lavon helped Markowitz purchase his lamb and lead the animal back to the Temple itself.

  It bleated softly.

  “A cute little critter,” I heard Markowitz say.

  “Don’t get too attached to it,” Lavon replied. “In less than an hour, you’re going to be cutting its throat.”

  “Me?”

  This was a surprise. I had thought the priests handled that end of the business.

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at the picture forming in my mind. For all his enthusiasm for adventure sports, I doubted Markowitz had ever killed a large animal except by hitting one with his car. Hopefully he wouldn’t make too big a mess of it.

  As I turned back toward the north, I tapped on my ear bud to shift frequencies and check in with Sharon.

  To my relief, not much had changed on her end. After passing through the Damascus Gate, her litter had made its way south along the city wall.

  She sounded subdued, though, and after she told me the story, it wasn’t hard to understand why.

  Their procession had stopped two more times to rest the porters. Each time, guards had kept the swarm of mendicants following them at bay. On the last stop, though, one beggar, seeing a soldier’s attention diverted, had rushed up to the litter and thrust a cup through the curtain.

  Though this man wasn’t a leper, Azariah called out to another guard, and Sharon could only watch helplessly as the soldier cudgeled the poor fellow with a strong blow to the back of the head, leaving his skull cracked open and his motionless body bleeding in the dust.

  “He walked on as if he had stepped on a bug,” she said.

  From his perspective, he probably had.

  She explained, too, just what a close call our Temple excursion had been.

  Roughly thirty years later, on what could have been the same exact spot, excitable self-appointed busybodies – the curse of every religion – had accused the apostle Paul of bringing “Greeks” into the Temple and defiling it. He barely escaped the subsequent riot in one piece and never took another step as a free man – eventually going to his death in Rome, in chains.

  No wonder the archaeologist had turned so pale.

  Otherwise, Sharon seemed OK, so I tapped my ear to switch back to Lavon’s frequency. Although he didn’t respond to my inquiries, I could hear him speaking calmly and concluded that Markowitz must have made it into the Temple without further incident.

  Bryson, though, was a different matter. As I threaded my way back though the trash and thorn bushes of the Kidron Ravine, I listened to him speak of his latest brainstorm.

  “Would he know Joseph of Arimathea?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Nicodemus: would he know Joseph?”

  “Certainly,” said Lavon.

  “Then that may be our answer. Culloden’s right. I’m not sure I’ll be able to find the exact site of the tomb the way I had planned. Triangulating with sufficient accuracy will be harder than I thought.”

  Lavon didn’t reply. By now he could guess what was coming next.

  “If you g
o back there and ask him, perhaps he can introduce us to Joseph.”

  This was lunacy.

  Obviously, Lavon thought so, too.

  “Let me ask you something. Say some stranger walked into your MIT lab and asked where your family’s cemetery plot was. What would you do?”

  “I’d ask why they wanted to know.”

  “Yes, just before you called campus security to come with a straitjacket. What answer could we possibly give? In a few years, you’ll have the most famous tomb on the planet?”

  Bryson didn’t say anything for a moment.

  “I suppose you’re right,” he finally replied. “Still, we should find some way to inquire of these people while we have the chance. Maybe we could report a workman got injured or something.”

  Chapter 35

  I couldn’t listen to any more of this nonsense. Besides my ear was starting to itch, so I popped the device out as I climbed up the steep incline toward the Reptile Garden. Though I had learned the facility’s true purpose, I couldn’t help calling it that.

  Once there, I located my benefactor and dropped the handful of the coins Lavon had given me onto a table. I’m good for my debts as a matter of principle, and given the way things had transpired so far, I didn’t think it would hurt to have a few more friends, just in case.

  The priest gestured as if he wanted me to stay, but I showed him Lavon’s missive and motioned that I needed to be moving on.

  I had only a short jog to the Antonia. Lavon’s note worked as expected, and a few minutes later, I found myself escorted into the presence of Publius, who was conducting a final equipment inspection before he sent two squads out on patrol.

  He eyeballed my bedraggled appearance with a look of surprise. Since my earpiece wasn’t in, I couldn’t understand a word he was saying, though the gist wasn’t too hard to figure out.

  “Lestes,” I replied. It was the only Greek word I knew.

  I suppose a story that I had been attacked by bandits was plausible enough. Fortunately he didn’t press the issue, since the last thing I wanted to mention was Markowitz’s venture into the Temple.