Hope of Earth (43 page)

Bry and Lin froze, astonished. “You?” Bry asked.

A portly older man standing nearby laughed. Jes turned to face him. “This is my husband, Captain Ittai, retiring from the sea. This is his caravan.”

Bry stared at the array of camels, horses, and attendants. A number of them were armed.

“Our caravan,” the man said, putting his arm around Jes as she came to him.

“But—” Lin started.

Jes leaned toward her. “Yes, he’s rich,” she whispered loudly enough to carry through the canyon. “And these are my siblings, Bry and Lin,” she said to the captain.

“I am glad to meet both of you,” the captain said.

They still could not believe it. “How—?” Lin asked.

Captain Ittai smiled. “It is a long story, but I will make it short. Jes signed on aboard my ship as a man, but I penetrated her disguise—”

“That wasn’t all you penetrated,” Jes said archly.

“And after that, we just had to marry,” he concluded smugly. “So here we are, to rejoin the family.”

Lin tried again. “But Jes is so—”

“So much more woman than I may deserve,” the captain said, patting her bottom. “She wanted to love me and leave me, but I persuaded her it wasn’t fair to take advantage of an old man like that.”

It was becoming clear that the two were not going to tell their full story all at once. “Sam is doing construction nearby,” Bry said. “And Ned is designing it. Flo—”

“Why don’t you go to let them know we are here,” Jes suggested. “While we make our offerings to Atargatis. Then we can go together to meet Flo and Dirk. We have something important to discuss with them.”

“More important than getting married?” Lin asked. She still seemed as amazed as Bry was that angular Jes could have accomplished such a thing. She was acting almost like Wona.

“Well—” Jes said, glancing at her husband.

“Equivalently important,” Ittai said. “And somewhat urgent.”

“Oh, come on,” Jes teased him. “We did it just an hour ago. It can’t be that urgent.”

“This is weird,” Lin muttered.

“I’ll tell Sam,” Bry said to her. “You tell Flo.”

“Yes.” They ran off in different directions, while Jes and the captain climbed the long steps to the shrine.

As it happened, Sam and Ned were together, consulting about the placement of a significant block of stone. This was to be a shelter for high-ranking travelers, well above the base of the canyon. It was being built on commission by the king of Nabataea, and the family was allowed to occupy land in this vicinity and to farm on it as long as progress on the construction was satisfactory. Bry knew it was, because Ned was good at designing things, and Sam was good at heavy work. Still, the favor of kings was notoriously fickle, so nothing was certain until they were granted citizenship.

“Jes is back!” Bry cried as he saw them. “And she’s married! A rich captain!”

He saw Sam and Ned exchange a significant glance. But they didn’t doubt him openly. They concluded their business and accompanied him back to the farm.

Jes and her old rich husband were already there. Flo was better prepared, having been briefed by Lin. But there was another surprise. “You have an urgent mission,” Flo told Bry. “Talk to your sister while we get things ready.”

Without waiting for him to react, Jes took him by the elbow and led him to a shady spot by the wall. “Flo says you’re the only one who can do it. You know the terrain, you speak the dialect, and you’re small enough to slip by unnoticed.”

“Do what?” he asked blankly.

“Travel to Galilee alone.”

“What?”

“My husband is Judaean. He has contacts there, especially relating to events of the sea. He learned that when King Herod Antipas of Galilee traveled to Rome, he met his niece Herodias, said to be a most attractive young woman. She was married to his half-brother Heçpd Philip, but didn’t like him, so she agreed to marry Herod Antipas if he would get rid of that Nabataean princess. He was so smitten with her that he agreed, and he is about to do the deed.”

“But that’s Princess Aretania, King Aretas’s daughter!”

“Precisely. She will die, if she doesn’t get out of there in a hurry. Herod will be there in another three days. She must be warned before he gets there.”

The gravity of it sank in. “You want me to go warn her.”

“Yes. We hate to ask this of you, Bry, but—”

“But I don’t know the princess! And she doesn’t know me. Why should she accept the word of a stranger?”

“I wish we had an official letter to give you, Bry, but if we did, you still couldn’t risk carrying it. If you were caught with anything like that—” She shook her head. “You will simply have to be persuasive. Her life depends on it.”

“But I’m not even a citizen! And her father—”

“We will proceed on down to Petra while you go north. Our mission is ostensibly to request a land grant, which will likely be granted, considering my husband’s wealth. But we will seek immediate private audience with the king, and tell him what we know, and what you are doing, “We’ll ask him to send a force to the border to escort the princess when she crosses it.”

“But—”

“You will have to get her safely across it. Can you do that, Bry?”

His head was spinning with the suddenness and urgency of the mission. “I guess I’ll have to.”

And so he found himself traveling alone that night, instead of sleeping, for night was the best time to move swiftly. It was cool, and there was no one to observe. He had a pack that Flo had prepared, with figs, bread, hard cheese, and strips of dried goat meat. He had a change of cloaks, so as to be able to shift his appearance quickly. And he had his message.

He knew the way well, for he had spent his young life in the vicinity of the Dead Sea and Galilee. Drought and changing politics had forced his family to move south, seeking a better situation, but he hadn’t forgotten the old haunts. He could follow the trail all the way north to Peraea. After that it would be less familiar, but he could find his way.

He walked swiftly through the starry night, using his staff to check any dark objects in his path. He didn’t tire; the urgency of his mission propelled him. He passed the city of Kerak and by morning he was at Dhilban, ten leagues north of his starting point. This was excellent time, but he reminded himself that it was illusory, because now he faced the heating day, and the possible curiosity of strangers.

He continued as long as he could, slowing. Now fatigue was catching up with him. He had done a lot of errand running, but this was a much longer haul than any before. At the border of Peraea he found a private grove and hid in it, lying down to sleep during the heat of the day.

He was lucky. The palm trees kept the sun off him, and no one spied him. It would have been too much to say he was refreshed by his hot sleep, but at least he wasn’t utterly worn out. As evening came he ate sparingly from his pack, took a good drink from a local well, and resumed his trek.

The border of Peraea was not well guarded, for this was a time of relative peace. Merchants and tradesmen crossed all the time. He walked down the road as if he had business ahead, and no one challenged him. But he was now in potentially hostile territory.

The road moved along the northeastern shore of the Dead Sea. The barren land sloped down to the salty water, with massive pieces of dark basalt rock lying scattered as if by a giant’s hand. Salt crusted everything near the shore, turning it white. If Bry slitted his eyes, those coated rocks looked almost like clouds in air. But he knew it was a dead region; there were no fish, no plants, because of the poisonous thickness of the brine. There once had been life here, though, because he saw the seashells lying high up on the slopes.

The darkness closed in, and he could see the sea no more, but he could hear its waves lapping the shore, and smell the thickness of the air. He would be glad to get beyond this desolate region.

In due course the sea curved west, away from the road. The Jordan River came in from the north—and along its banks the ground grew green again, for it was fresh water. There were grass, and wheat, and olive trees, and the air became sweet. The smell of plowed fields wafted in on the night breeze. What a relief!

The river ran straight north, following the cleft between mountain ridges, and the road ran straight beside it. Bry’s fatigue actually diminished as he walked, because of the pleasure of the environment. He was making good time. Still, he had a long way to go, and little time. He had to get there before King Herod did!

By dawn he was near the northern border of Peraea. The two sections of Herod’s domain were discontinuous, with a portion of Decapolis between. Herod, an arrogant man, did not necessarily get along well with his neighbors, so it would normally be better to travel through Samaria instead, going around Decapolis. But that would take him a full day out of his way. So he had to risk the direct route. But not by day.

He found another grove, selected a secluded spot hidden within it, ate, and slept. Bry was good at finding paths, and good at hiding, having done both all his life; no one discovered him.

In the evening he resumed his trek. He had about half a day’s travel left, if he could find the way.

He had no trouble locating the city of Beisan; it was right across the river. The bridge was guarded, as it represented access to the city from a foreign territory, but the guards were evidently asleep. Good enough; he moved silently across and to the gate.

It was closed for the night. He couldn’t get in without waking the guards, and he didn’t want to do that, for any number of reasons. So he slid around to the side, circling the city until he reached the gate on the other side. That was closed too, but before long it should open to admit routine vegetable venders bringing their wares from the surrounding fields. Cities were hungry things, and needed huge amounts of food. So Bry settled down against the wall to nap until the day began. Any activity at the gate would wake him.

Sure enough, soon there was the approach of hooves. Several mounted men charged up to the gate. “Open for His Majesty King Herod Antipas!” one demanded loudly.

The sleepy guard was unimpressed. “I see no king. Where is your authority?”

“Here, you lazy scoundrel.” The man handed across a scroll.

The guard perused the scroll, then gave the order. This was indeed the advance party for the king.

Bry scrambled up. The king was already arriving? He barely had time to warn the princess.

He walked around to the gate. Sure enough, it remained open, because there wasn’t much point in closing it when dawn was so close and the king would soon arrive. He walked in unchallenged.

The houses were densely packed inside the city: simple cubic flat-roofed dwellings with dung-colored walls. The palace wasn’t at all difficult to locate: it was a two story stone structure of considerable size, containing chambers for the city elders to gather after the day’s work, and where citizens could come to receive judgment and make legally binding declarations. This was where the princess would stay.

Now came the hard part: getting in to see the princess, before the king arrived. He couldn’t take a day to scout out the situation and find the best way; he had to do it immediately.

He decided that a bold course was best, in this situation. He went to a public scribe and bought a small blank scroll. Few folk were literate, but he could write a few words. He wrote four, then made a deliberately indecipherable signature, and rolled and sealed the scroll so that it looked official. Then he put on his better tunic, brushed his hair back, and approached the main entrance.

The guard here was not asleep. He wore the badges of some rank, and had arrogance to match. “What’s your business, boy?”

“I bear an important message for Princess Aretania.”

“What is the message?”

“It is only for her ears.”

“Don’t fool with me, boy! I will be the judge of what is or is not important. Now speak, or get out of here.”

“As you wish. I was told to allow no one but the princess to see this, on pain of severe punishment, but I’m sure you have the necessary authority.” He handed the sealed scroll to the man.

The guard considered the scroll. Messages to royalty were special; a person could readily get his head lopped off for snooping. So he did not open it. Instead he snapped his fingers for a servant. ‘Take this message to the princess.”

The servant took the scroll and disappeared into the depths of the palace. Bry waited, doing his best to maintain a calm mien. The princess could summarily order his own head off, if she thought the matter an unkind joke. But he hoped she would be curious enough to inquire.

The servant returned. ‘The princess says to admit the messenger to her presence.”

The guard never blinked. “Of course. Guide him there forthwith.”

The servant turned, and Bry stepped briskly forward to accompany him. He felt weak with relief. His gamble had paid off.

The princess’s apartment was well back in the labyrinth. The servant brought him to the curtained door and spoke loudly enough to be heard inside. “Majesty: the messenger is here.”

“Enter, messenger,” a woman’s voice replied.

Bry stepped through the curtain and found himself in a richly decorated suite. There were rugs on the floor and carpets on the walls. A woman stood alone in the center. She was not old, but neither was she young, and she was somewhat plain of feature. Her robe, however, was ornate, and she wore jewelry that looked quite precious. She was clearly the princess. Accordingly, Bry dropped to his knees and bowed his head, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence.

“Rise.”

He got back to his feet, but remained silent. He knew that a common person never spoke to a royal person, but only responded to direct orders or queries.

“What is this message?” she asked.

He looked around. “Your Highness, it must not be overheard by anyone else.”

“Where are you from?”

“Nabataea, Your Highness.”

“Speak to me in that dialect.”

“Gladly, Your Highness,” he said in that variant. It was mainly a matter of accent and inflection, but was almost impossible to fake. Bry, living between the two kingdoms, had learned the dialects of both.