Читать книгу Danya - Anne McGivern - Страница 6

The Raid

My first sensation upon awakening that night was an unusual silence, the absence of my brother Lev’s restless sleep-breathing. His empty mat signaled that the moment had finally arrived: the raid on Sepphoris, the Roman capital city of Galilee, would take place tonight. But Lev had snuck off to join the rebels without me! I tightened the combs in my braided hair and donned the clothing I’d hidden under my mat. Disguised in the head covering and tunic of a young man, I crept by my father, sleeping in the other room, and slipped out the door. I was a swift runner; I would catch up to Lev and participate in this holy adventure with him.

The village was quiet; all of Nazareth was holding its breath. The only sound was the slap of my sandaled feet against the hardened dirt of the footpath leading up the hill and away from the village. The full moon’s light illuminated each rock and twisted root along my way, so I moved quickly without harm. I thought that the brightness was a good omen; a sign that this truly was The Holy One’s plan for me. That like my heroine Esther, who also had lost her mother at an early age, I, too, had been chosen to save our people from the enemy. Just last week, Lev had sworn me to silence, then revealed the plans for the upcoming raid to me. When I’d begged to participate in it, he rebuked me harshly. “Danya, you’re a thirteen-year-old girl! You can’t come with me!” But I would follow my brother until, as usual, he would give in.

As I climbed, I imagined myself infiltrating the Roman enemy’s armory in Sepphoris. I could almost feel the sting of the gladius’ blade when I would test its point with my fingertip. I flexed my wrist, gauging its strength, and determined it would be strong enough to hoist a javelin onto my shoulder. We would spurn the cumbersome Roman shields and breastplates since they didn’t suit our style of fighting. After the armory we would steal our way on to the treasury. I conjured up the hushed chill of the imperial vault and the clinking of gold coins dropping into my sack. This money would fuel the fires of revolution and incite the land of Judah to rebel against Roman domination. I dared to envision myself crowned with an olive wreath by my people, like my other heroine, Judith. I, too, would be bold enough to go down a mountain and cross a valley to the camp of Israel’s enemy in order to save our people.

I reached the top of the ridge bordering our village. From this vantage point, I hoped to spot the raiding party stealing its way across the Netopha valley and run fast enough to catch up to them. People always said that Lev and I looked alike. We were close in height and had heavy eyebrows. Our noses were straight as styluses. And since my tunic easily concealed my small breasts, I might yet be able to slip unnoticed into the ranks of these young men.

But nothing stirred in the vineyards below me, or in the olive groves below them, or in the grain fields of the valley. No smoke or fire spewed from the city on the hill. Sepphoris appeared as calm and haughty as always. It was possible that Lev and his band had decided not to attack tonight and had instead gone out into the countryside to train. I’d have to wait on this overlook until I could discern their whereabouts.

Suddenly, from the valley below, a small dust cloud spiraled up from the dry bed of the Nahal Zippori River. I squinted and watched hungrily as another dust cloud arose, then another, and another, and another. These swirling towers appeared to stretch from the floor of the valley all the way up to the heavens. Sand and grit springing up from the flying footsteps of the revolutionaries must have created them. A sign of the coming of the Lord’s Kingdom! The moment to advance and triumph had finally arrived!

I pulled my head covering tightly around my face, leaving only my eyes exposed, and started running down the hill to join the freedom fighters, then stopped in the vineyard halfway down the hill and narrowed my eyes to examine the clouds more closely. The dust towers billowed and drifted into one another, forming an arch that floated over and across the valley. But the arch was sweeping away from the marble and limestone buildings of the city on the hill—rolling away from Sepphoris—not towards it.

My stomach pitched as I realized that the dust clouds were blowing towards me because the footsteps creating it were heading east. The assault on Sepphoris had already taken place. The insurgents were fleeing with their spoils. Jewish revolutionaries had plundered the Roman capital of Galilee—and I had been left behind!

Struck with a sudden, violent dizziness, I had to sit down and lower my head between my knees. Why was my brother Lev chosen, but not me? Like him, I burned with the desire to please Adonai. I was as strong and as clever as he was. I could recite even more of the Torah than he could. Then I cried, “Just like a girl,” as the village boys would have taunted.

Dawn seeped in as the rebel troop headed straight towards my hillside. I dried my face with my sleeve. There would be other raids in other places. Maybe I could still join them. I squatted among the vines to conceal myself and watch their approach. No one pursued them. The spies must’ve been right: most of the city’s Roman auxiliary had left for Jerusalem to help maintain order during the upcoming Passover celebrations. The few guards left behind would have been no match for these dedicated revolutionaries.

The band followed their leader into the olive grove below me. Individual shapes emerged as the dust clouds settled. I tried to spot my brother, thin-shouldered, his gait a prowl, but many of the young men looked like him. Silent except for some coughing as they caught their breaths, the rebels slumped against the olive trees. Their sacks of weapons and coins clunked onto the ground.

I’d never before seen their leader, Judah ben Hezekiah, though I’d heard much about him. He was a Galilean from a village north of ours. It was said that, as a boy, Judah had witnessed his father’s beheading by King Herod’s soldiers, and that he had vowed then to carry on his father’s work. Some called him an Anointed One or a resistance chieftain; others said he was merely a thief. Though Judah ben Hezekiah appeared to be not much older than Lev, he had a powerful build, far more muscular than my brother’s. Bloodstains, rust-colored like his hair, spattered his tunic.

I crawled down through more rows of vines and got myself very close to the group. A tremor of hushed exhilaration rippled through their ranks. They had looted a treasury and an armory of the Emperor Augustus. Tiny Galilee had hurled its sling at the Roman giant. The weapons amassed to subjugate our people would now liberate us. A whoop of triumph, Lev’s voice, shot up from the olive grove.

“Shut up,” Judah snarled.

I spotted my brother when his leader kicked him in the stomach. Lev’s startled moan echoed in my throat.

“No celebrating until we get to the caves of Arbel!” Judah rasped. “Get up! We have many miles to go to reach safety.” He paced back and forth among the reclining men. “Stand! Fall into formation!” he commanded. When a few resisted, he taunted them, calling them “women.”

Judah’s stony eyes scanned the hillside for intruders. I squeezed myself under a staked vine, trying to make myself invisible. Leaves scraped my forehead. I held my breath and waited for the blow of Judah’s foot. How could I shield myself from Judah’s censure since even my brother had been unable to? Though I assumed that Roman generals treated their soldiers cruelly, I had not expected a Jewish leader to brutalize his own fighters.

The rebels, grumbling, stood, shouldered their sacks, and set out. Peering out through the greenery, I saw Judah draw his sword and raise it over his head like an army’s standard. Its blade reflected the rays of the rising sun. “No master but God!” he proclaimed.

The ragged column set off, heading northeast, with Judah in the lead. Lev fell in at the rear. He was hunched over, trying to keep up, with one hand dragging his sack of plunder and the other clutching his stomach. Immobilized by fear, I could not run after him. But I like to think he looked up and caught a glimpse of me—or knew I’d be on the hillside—because he removed his hand from his stomach and threw a kiss in my direction.

I scrambled back to the top of the ridge and balanced atop its two highest rocks. A wind whipped up, sealing the freedom fighters into their dust cloud while I watched the whirl of sacred purpose move on without me.