The Ironsmith (58 page)

And, to keep himself amused on the journey, Caleb sat in the back of his wagon, the curtains drawn aside, and taunted his prisoner.

“Are you aware of the punishment for desertion? No? It is crucifixion. That is how your friend Joshua died.”

The weight of the oxbow on his neck meant that it required a special effort for Matthias to raise his head and look at his tormenter. He made the effort now. He wanted Caleb to see his face.

“What do I not deserve, my lord, for the things I have done in your service? But God in His mercy has forgiven me, has spared me His wrath, so I have little enough to fear from you.”

“‘Little enough'? You think so?”

“Yes, my lord. Death and pain are little enough, for I will pass through them to everlasting life. God has redeemed me.”

It was enough for the time being. Caleb drew the curtains closed, having decided he would take a nap. He would dream of his wife, who had been very affectionate of late and who had promised to join him in Tiberias.

At walking pace, the road from Jerusalem to Sepphoris took seven days, with six nights in one or another of the villages along the way, which did a good business in accommodating pilgrims. It was an agreeable journey, particularly after one left the highlands, where the nights were cold.

A man in chains, especially one as big as Matthias, excited a great deal of curiosity. Little children, sometimes accompanied by their parents, would approach him, sometimes with food and water, and ask him questions. At first the soldiers of Caleb's escort shooed them away, but in the end they grew tired of it and left them alone.

The common people did not assume, simply from the fact that a man was a prisoner, that he was evil, or had done anything really wrong, or was any different from themselves. Bandits were often popular heroes, and no one thought any less of Matthias when they were told he was a deserter.

At night, Matthias was chained to a wagon axle and left outside, and the villagers would build a fire to keep off the cold and bear him company. He would tell them about his life and his many crimes and about how he had found forgiveness. He told them about Joshua and God's kingdom. He told them about the mercy of God. He was not gifted as a preacher, but the fact that he had been condemned to death, and did not seem to be afraid, carried great weight.

The soldiers sometimes came and listened, too. They liked Matthias, and Caleb was not a favorite. No one told Caleb what was going on.

Nevertheless, after the fourth night he found out and ordered a stop to it. A guard would be posted wherever they stayed overnight, just to keep people away from Matthias.

“I'm told your master Joshua lasted only a few hours on the cross,” Caleb said, that morning, while Matthias was being unchained from the wagon axle. “Perhaps his heart gave out, or perhaps the Romans are going soft. In either case, I've decided that you won't be so fortunate. I've decided that you'll be spared the scourging and be crucified just as you are. And they won't come and break your leg bones either. You'll have to die all on your own. A strong man like you might last a week. We'll see.”

Matthias made no response. He did not appear even to have heard.

For the rest of the day, Caleb was in a filthy mood.

*   *   *

In Sepphoris there was a gated courtyard through which soldiers always entered and left the palace, because it was adjacent to the barracks and the stables. It also served as a receiving point for prisoners. The walls were windowless up to about twice a man's height and, once the gate was down, there was no escape. Until a few days before, the Lord Eleazar had not known about a prisoner, but he knew that, because of his escort, Caleb would enter through this gateway.

He had had Caleb watched since the end of the Passover. On the day Caleb left Jerusalem, a rider on a fast horse had carried word of it to Sepphoris. The Lord Eleazar had had plenty of time to prepare his servant's reception.

When he knew that Caleb was only half a day from the city, he summoned the captain of the watch to his office, where he handed him a papyrus scroll.

“This is a warrant, signed by me, for the arrest and execution of the Lord Caleb,” he said. “You will speak of this to no one. No soldier of the guard is to be allowed to leave the palace until the arrest has been effected. Do I make myself understood?”

“Yes, my lord.”

The watch captain was careful to keep his own face impassive. Yet, was there just a hint of satisfaction around the corners of his mouth?

“Will the men feel any compunction about obeying this order?” Eleazar asked.

“No, my lord.”

“I thought not.”

For the next half an hour, they went over plans for the arrest. While they talked, the Lord Eleazar sat at his marble desk, sketching an outline of the courtyard on a wax tablet.

“What can be done about the escort?” he asked, without looking up.

“They won't cause any trouble,” the watch captain answered. He hooked his right thumb into his sword belt, a gesture which somehow conveyed his vast contempt for cavalrymen. “All they'll care about is looking after their horses and then getting drunk.”

“Nevertheless, the best thing would be to draw them off somehow. I'd prefer it if they went back to Jerusalem without even knowing that anything had happened.”

“Then we'll get them into the stables before we make the arrest. By the time they come back out, Caleb will be gone.”

Eleazar nodded agreement.

“How many men will you need?”

“No more than four.”

“Choose ones you can trust, then.” The Tetrarch's First Minister made a despairing gesture with his left hand. “There is no chance of keeping the arrest a secret, but I would prefer that Caleb be dead before it becomes widely known. The prisoner, of course, is a complication. I will decide about that when we have established his identity.”

“What do you want done with Caleb?”

“I will leave the palace as soon as he is in custody. Bring me his head in the morning.”

The watch captain smiled. “Perhaps you could send it to his wife as a wedding present,” he said pleasantly.

“You knew about that?”

“My lord, everyone knew about it, except perhaps her husband.”

Two hours later, when the gate was raised for the arrival of Caleb's party, everything was in place. A small knot of soldiers were playing dice. The Lord Eleazar and the watch captain were standing in shadow. First the wagon entered, then the prisoner, then six men on horses. Then the gate closed.

The watch captain swore under his breath and then plucked at Eleazar's sleeve.

“The prisoner's name is Matthias, my lord. He is one of ours—or was, until he disappeared a few months ago.”

“I am familiar with his history, Captain.”

The arrest went as planned. The cavalrymen dismounted and, under the direction of a palace groom, led their horses into the stable, where they were offered wine to clear the dust from their throats. The watch captain went over to the wagon and opened its door.

“My lord,” he said, smiling and offering his hand. “Welcome back.”

Caleb of course took the offered hand, and was about to say something, when he was unceremoniously yanked off balance. He tumbled out of the wagon and onto the stone floor.

“Lamech,” he shouted, “are you out of your mind? I'll have you…”

The threat died in his throat when the felt the point of the watch captain's sword resting just under his right eye.

The dice players, by this time, had abandoned their game. Three of them took up positions around the prostrate Caleb, and the fourth attended to the wagon driver.

“Come on down,” he said. “We have a nice cell for you, where you can stay drunk for two or three days, and then go home to the wife.”

“But, but … What about the horses?”

“They'll be attended to. Don't worry about that.”

The watch captain lifted his sword away from Caleb's face and slipped it back into his scabbard.

“Get up.”

Two soldiers grabbed Caleb by the arms and pulled him to his feet. At that moment the Lord Eleazar stepped forward out of the shadows.

“My lord…!”

But Eleazar ignored him. His attention was fixed on Matthias.

“Unshackle this man,” he ordered. “Who has a key?”

A search of Caleb's pockets turned it up, and in another moment Matthias was flexing his arms and shoulders, for the first time in a week, free of the oxbow.

“Come with me,” Eleazar said quietly, gesturing to him with his hand. “You have nothing to fear.”

“My lord,” Caleb shouted, “what have I done?”

Eleazar stopped and turned to him, as if he had just noticed his existence.

“What have you done?” He shook his head in dismay. “Captain, you have your orders. Remove him.”

“Yes, my lord.”

With Matthias following behind, Eleazar returned to his office. Matthias slumped into a chair, only looking up to accept a cup of wine.

“Have you eaten?” Eleazar inquired gently.

“Not since this morning.”

“Shall I order you some food?”

“No. I am too tired to eat.” Matthias looked around him, apparently unable to comprehend where he was. “What will you do with me?”

“Nothing. You are free.” Eleazar cocked his head a little to one side. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

“If I'm not to be crucified, I'll go back to Jerusalem.”

“What will you do there?”

“Try to pick up the threads.” Matthias set his wine cup down on the floor. “Try to find my master's disciples and see what can be done. I don't know. I'll have to see.”

Eleazar opened a small wooden box on his desk and took out a leather pouch containing silver. He tossed it to Matthias, who snatched it out of the air by reflex.

“You will need money for the journey, and for when you get there. Consider it your retirement pay.”

He smiled. He had decided that he liked Matthias.

“You will need a place to spend the night,” he continued. “Why don't you look in at Noah's house? I'm sure he'll give you a bed. I'm sure he'll be very glad to see you. Do you know the way?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so.”

“What will happen to Caleb?”

“By now he's probably already dead.”

“May the Lord God have mercy on him.”

“I'm inclined to think it unlikely.”

*   *   *

“What shall we do with him?”

The question was directed at the watch captain, who stood close in front of the prisoner, smiling into his face.

“The Lord Eleazar wants his head by morning,” he said, speaking mainly for Caleb's benefit. “Beyond that, he doesn't seem to care.”

“What was he going to do to Matthias?”

“You can imagine.”

If Matthias had had a friend among the guard, it was Lamech. And, in any case, the men hated “Little Ahab.”

“Are there any volunteers to take his head off?” Lamech directed his gaze from one to the next of the four men who had been detailed for the arrest. “No one wants to do it? Are you afraid of getting your uniforms dirty?”

The men laughed nervously.

“Then I suppose it will have to be Uriah.”

The name was like a splash of cold water.

Up to that point, Caleb had been able to preserve his dignity. He knew how these games were played, and he had accepted the idea that his life was over. He thought he could face death, provided it was quick and he didn't have to wait too long.

But Uriah was another matter. He felt the panic rising in his throat as they hustled him down the stairs to the lower prison.

Uriah was sitting on his bench. He looked up when the door opened. He saw Caleb, and immediately noted that his hands were tied behind his back.

Uriah stood up, but without hurry. There was no one before whom he needed to grovel.

“Death sentence,” Lamech announced. “Order of the First Minister, the Lord Eleazar. Cut off his head.”

The soldiers on either side of Caleb forced him to his knees.

“When?”

It was the only question Uriah asked, and he waited for the answer as expectantly as a child waits for a treat.

Lamech had to think. There was still an hour to dusk. What would be a just punishment?

“I'll be back in twelve hours,” he said. “The Lord Eleazar wants the head, and it would be better if it were left unmarked—the lord might have a weak stomach.”

The men departed. The prison door closed. There was no one left behind except Caleb and his executioner.

Uriah walked around his new victim in a slow circle, as if he wanted to appreciate the sight of him from every angle.

“I was always your friend, Uriah.”

“No one is my friend.”

“Make it quick.”

But Uriah didn't answer. He merely stepped behind Caleb, grabbed him by the rope that bound his hands, and dragged him over to the wall, to which an iron ring was bolted, about four feet above the floor. Uriah took a chain, threaded it around Caleb's chest and then fastened it to the ring.

Then he crouched in front of Caleb. A small knife appeared in his hand. He lifted up the hem of Caleb's tunic and cut away his loin cloth. The point of the knife went against Caleb's scrotum, and with a quick backwards movement he tore it open.

Caleb was too astonished even to cry out, as the blood slowly leaked out onto his leg.

“You want to die quickly?” Uriah shook his head. “We have a long time. You will beg for death, but it will not come. You will suffer as you would not have thought it possible to suffer, but a man does not die of suffering. When at last you feel the blade against your throat, you will bless me for it.”

Then he stood up and walked back to his bench. He would give his victim time to think.

But Caleb could not think. He could not even catch his breath. He tried to remember something—anything—that would help him now, but all he could think of was Joshua on the way to the Antonia Fortress. “
I hope someday you will look back,
” he had said. “
God will forgive you.
”