Читать книгу Jesus and Menachem - Siegfried E. van Praag - Страница 12

Early morning the order came to break camp. Ben Nesher had the motto of the hidden leader Yehuda the Galilean repeated from group to group: “He who serves the Romans offends God.” And they set out to plunder.

The men were unequally armed. Some had nothing in their hands nor on their backs. Others wore Roman shields on their arms. Many had axes. The axe suited those who wield it for felling rotten tree trunks.

They proceeded along the valley whilst above, along the mountain ridges, black figures were climbing. Sometimes these black figures made almost no headway, then all at once they advanced with speed. They were the scouts. When one saw a speck in the distance or a moving line in the heights, one became aware of man’s helplessness and puniness as well as a certain exaltation. The solitary figure represented one of God’s dice which had rolled down.

The rhythm of marching feet on rocky ground blended with the metallic clang of weapons. Everything in Ben Nesher’s roving band was fiercer than the equivalent of its intended prey, the tax caravan: escorts, weapons and will. Relentlessly the rebels stalked the sun-scorched, dusty caravan with its precious cargo.

The men above gave the signal. They thrust their weapons in the air and waved them to and fro. Ben Nesher divided his army into columns that would scale the mountains in order to penetrate the village on three fronts. No paths crossed these mountains—the scouts girded ropes around their middle in order to haul up their comrades. Menachem remained with Ben Nesher’s column. The ascent proved painful as the random features of the rocky cliffs challenged their endurance. Sweat poured down their grimy faces and formed streaks in their hair. Initially Ben Nesher’s column saw their comrades climbing from afar. Although the ascent seemed like child’s play from a distance, the obstacles of the terrain frustrated the climbers.

Harnessing his agility, Ben Nesher gained a foothold on a higher ledge, gripped a jutting rock, pulled himself up and said: “We’re on our way.” The target beckoned beyond the next ridge which they crossed after what appeared to be an endless struggle. Moving swiftly now with weapons at the ready, they approached the town.

Their target, the caravan they pursued so single-mindedly, had already broken up to find resting places throughout the town. Near the first row of houses lay the camels. The ground around the beasts was occupied by bags heaped high. Idumeans, Arabs, Africans and even a sprinkling of men from the nations of Yaphet—all of them armed with spears—guarded the beasts and their valuable cargo.

A spy of Ben Nesher’s reported to him that the Roman tax collector had spent the night in one of the town’s few large houses whilst other Romans lay resting on the roofs to prepare for the next stage of their journey.

Ben Nesher awaited the arrival of his two other columns. The second one soon met up with his rear guard as it entered the town from the back behind a row of houses. Then he gave the order to attack.

Shouting “For Freedom and Israel!” the partisans fell upon the enemy. As Ben Nesher’s group headed for the camels, a dark youth saw them advancing like a pack of predators and screamed: “The tigers of Yehuda the Galilean!”

So formidable was the free army that the mere mention of its name had the effect of paralyzing the tax guards. Flinging their spears to the ground they gave themselves up without a fight. The men of Ben Nesher’s second column stormed the houses, smashing down doors and falling on the small number of Romans that had demanded shelter inside. Some avenged themselves personally by hurling Romans from the roofs. The axe of Israel’s avengers dangled menacingly over the vacillating Jews.

“Are you obedient to God or to Rome?” growled Ben Nesher’s men. For some these words evoked profound emotions in the soul. For others they meant nothing more than the stones in their hands. Woe to the Jew who in his anguish attempted to provide a long explanation. Before he had finished his brains had spattered from his skull.

Ben Nesher permitted the homes of the Roman slaves and the Herodian Jews to be sacked although no one could keep personal booty for himself. Everything gained was for the support of the free army’s immediate needs.

Opposite Ben Nesher stood the commander of the convoy, a slender Latin from northern Italy.

“What do you demand of me?” asked the enemy.

“I want nothing from you—I only take back what is ours.”

“You offend Caesar. Beware what you do.”

“You offend God on his own soil, idolator. This entire land is a Holy Temple. The stranger who steps on it with unhallowed feet must die.”

“Would you murder me?”

“I shall slay you. We desperately needed help, Roman. We had closed an alliance with you. We asked for your assistance. Like fools we opened the gates and welcomed you. You came, you entered, you saw. Once inside, you defiled the Temple. To you, only two things hold meaning: power and gold!”

“Have mercy!” cried the Roman.

“In Jerusalem they sacrifice goats and bulls, poor animals that could never cause offence to God—I sacrifice a thief who came as a friend!”

“Mercy!”

“This land has been bled dry of mercy.”

Menachem saw Ben Nesher fling down his axe. His large hands caught the Roman by the throat and smashed his skull against the room’s stone wall.

“It is better to die than to kill like that!” exclaimed Menachem.

“You know not how much Israel has suffered!” the leader snarled at him.

Three men dashed in panting.

“Ben Nesher, we are betrayed!”

“What’s going on!?”

“There is a man arrived from the third column to warn us. The column of Reuben the Perean has been taken.”

“Then they must have known about our plans,” muttered Ben Nesher. “Either that or they expected an attack somewhere along the route. How dumb I was; this operation was too obvious. How many enemies are there?”

“They speak of two legions from Varus.”

“There are only two ways out,” Ben Nesher declared while looking at Menachem. “God still keeps one of them closed. The other one is good too.”

“Death?” asked Menachem.

“Death!” affirmed Ben Nesher. They went outside, their weapons drawn. Ben Nesher’s men formed a close formation like a herd of bulls shaking horns, eager to fight. No one seemed afraid. They had been surprised in the process of performing their work. Brave and ready to die, Ben Nesher’s men stood their ground as they had always kept their feet on the ground even when aspiring to the heights. Menachem had seen much discord in Israel but never such unity. The block of warriors on the road resembled a fortress. They knew why Jacob had set out for Canaan.

The Romans—all of them regular troops—surged closer. Sabinus the proconsul had pressed Varus in Syria to dispatch them to Judea. Along the way its commanders were informed that Yehuda’s men intended to strike. Led by centurions and a commander-in-chief, the army wearing Roman helmets approached with rhythmic step. The vanguard consisted of missile slingers wearing light sandals. The spearmen with shields on the breast came next, followed by armored troops in third place.

“Duck!” yelled Ben Nesher to his center men around him. They stooped, raised again their fortress armed with heavy stones that they flung at the enemy across their own ranks. A cloud of small sharp stones struck up and down. Some lost an eye through them. The Romans, regular like a wave, were now close by. A hail of darts descended on the partisans that waited with spears and axes at the ready.

“Accursed fools, give yourselves up!” called the Roman commander. Safe in the midst of his men, he wore a rich overcoat over his tunic.

“To whom? To wolf cubs?” sneered Ben Nesher.

Then the main body of Romans attacked while others marched out to encircle the rebels. They hacked at each other as though they were demolishing houses. Axes, spears and swords stuck fast to ribs or split skulls. They bounced against bones, sunk deep into human flesh. Ben Nesher who towered above the rest, shattered the shoulders of many Romans with his battle-axe that day. Menachem forced himself to think of the slaughter in Nazareth and Israel’s future. Somehow there must still be a way. A way that was more righteous than sinful.

He heard himself muttering: “Thou shalt not murder—Thou shalt not murder,” and each time he said it, he thrust his dagger in the throat of an enemy, in the shoulder, in the belly, even once under the eye. “Thou shalt not murder.” What was it that made men blaspheme this commandment in God’s world? The perversity of sin. Would he ever reach the other side, would Israel ever reach the other side, would humanity someday arrive on the other side of sin, where there was no more murder? Menachem, one of the supplest, stooped, crawled between the legs of the combatants and plunged his dagger in the groins of a man who was battling Ben Nesher with his sword.