The captain of the Leucadian ship, Timocrates the Spartan, killed himself as his ship began to fill with water. The Spartan fleet still outnumbered the Athenians, but it retired to the south, surrendering control of the gulf to Phormio. Thus the blockade of Corinth remained in place for years, crippling that city’s economy.
The plague, which was probably typhoid fever, ravaged Athens for two years, skipped a year, then returned for one more year, as virulent as before. It reduced the orderly existence of the city to chaos. The rule of law became fragile or absent, as few people there thought they would live long enough to pay the price of their actions. Perikles fell victim to the plague, surviving it, but he never regained his strength and was reduced to lying abed wearing a protective charm.
In the end, in 404 B.C., Sparta defeated Athens, but the prestige of Athens remained until the city was sacked six centuries later. The power of Greece in time gave way to that of Rome, to whom it bequeathed much of its culture. The greatness of classical Greece is honored even today.
Chapter 11
PRINCESS
In the year A.D. 36 Herod Antipas was tetrarch, or governor, of the Roman territories of Galilee and Peraea. A Roman procurator governed the main part of the province of Judea. Thus Herod was, by default, the preeminent Jewish authority of the time. But he was not considered to be a good man. In A.D. 27 he had John the Baptist killed, fearing his influence among the people, and Herod was the one who saw to the execution of Jesus Christ. He married the daughter of the king of the Nabataeans, Aretas IV of Petra. This was a good alliance, because Nabataea was a powerful kingdom that controlled most of the Arabian peninsula and the principal trading routes connecting Egypt and the Mediterranean to Persia and the Far East. Its wealth derived originally from myrrh and other spices, but grew to encompass a wide range of trade goods, including silk from the orient, “gauze” from Gaza, “damask” from Damascus, as well as grain, gold, and wine. The Nabataeans spoke the same language, Aramaic, and were usually close friends with the Israelites. A spring serving Petra was reputed to be the one called forth when Moses struck the rock, though the authenticity of this belief is uncertain.
So King Herod had every reason to maintain good relations with Petra. But the man seems to have been a fool about women. He traveled to Rome, where he encountered his niece Herodias, wife of his half-brother Herod Philip. That led to significant mischief
BRY WAS HELPING LIN TEND their terraced garden. It was little, but it was vitally important, and every day they had to carry crocks of water up to irrigate it so it wouldn’t burn away in the hot sun. Without it, they would soon be hungry, because they had almost no reserves of grain or meat. They existed largely by the tolerance of the king of Nabataea, who accepted them as immigrants from the north but had not yet seen fit to grant them citizenship. At such time as they had citizenship, and the right to graze sheep and goats on a section of Nabataean pasture land, they would be much better off.
They carefully poured out the water so that it ran between the rows, none of it being wasted. Then they stood, straightening their tired backs. Water was heavy, especially when hauled uphill.
Bry straightened and looked around. He saw something in the distance.“Lin! A caravan!”
She was as excited as he was. Caravans passed regularly through Khirbet Tannur on their way between the capital city of Petra and points north, but that did not mean they were a daily occurrence. They always stopped to make an offering—it was not nice to call it a toll—at the Shrine of Atargatis, the goddess of love, beauty, fruitfulness, vegetation and much else. Also of war, and the underworld. It would be very bad form to incur her ire.
“Maybe it’s Jes,” Lin said.
But Jes had been gone more than a year. She had left with Wona, and would not return until that faithless wife had been placed, preferably far away. Maybe in Jerusalem, in Judaea, or maybe in Gaza. Maybe even somewhere in Phoenica, really far away. So it was bound to take time. But Bry worried secretly, as the months passed without her return. There were so many dangers along the way!
Lin glanced sharply at him. “Don’t say it.”
That brought him out of his morbid reverie. “Right. Maybe it’s Jes. She’s due.”
Without further word, they left the garden, scrambled down the steep path, and ran for the shrine.
The shrine stood alone inside the juncture of two canyons that branched out from the Dead Sea, seven leagues to the northwest. It was on an isolated stone rise, visible from the primary caravan route through the area, though still below the rim of the canyon. It was a singularly impressive structure, facing east and dominating that region of the canyon. It was left open to the sky, with a broad flat stone platform for worshippers and supplicants to stand on, flanked by two stone obelisks triple the height of a man; carved from the native rock of the ridge. One pillar represented the god Dushara, ruler of the mountains, and of all this land, and the other Al-Uzza, goddess of springs and water, so vital in this dry land. But the Shrine Tannur was for the goddess Atargatis; the others were merely guests at this site. The altar was for offerings to her.
The caravan made good time, because it was arriving at the base of the shrine the same time Bry and Lin did. Lin gave a scream of sheer joy. “Jes!” she cried, running to fling herself into her big sister’s arms.
Bry was just a bit more cautious. He had no doubt of Lin’s identification, for he recognized Jes too, despite her male attire. But she was in the company of strangers. If she was concealing her identity or gender, they could be causing her real mischief.
But his concern turned out to be unwarranted. Jes set Lin down and strode forward to hug him too. “You look wonderful! Both of you! How are—?”
“They’re all fine!” Lin said. “Sam brought home a new wife, Snow. She’s nice. He thought she would marry Ned, but Ho said—”
“Of course,” Jes agreed, probably not grasping all of that but satisfied that it was all right. “Wona has remarried. And I am married too.”
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.