The Tent Makers CHAPTER ONE - Page 2

IN THE MORNING, Joanna and Benjamin sat down to the first meal of the day. The mood was thick with a dark kind of sorrow. They could not help but notice that their mother had puffy circles under her eyes. She had found little sleep the night before, and had obviously been crying.
Without fanfare, she said, "You children will be going to the mountains today."

Before she could say more, Benjamin exclaimed, "We know. To stay with Ruel until the Romans are gone."

Rebekah turned abruptly and faced her young son. Sternly she said, "Your father did hear voices in the hall last night."

Benjamin flushed red and jumped to his feet. Eyes flashing darkly, he said, "I don't want to go to the mountains and hide with shepherds. I want to stay here with you and father and fight the Romans. They can't take everything you and father have. I will die to defend you and -- "

Rebekah raised her hand--not to strike him--but to draw her seven-year-old close. "I know you would die fighting for your father and me, and for Tarsus, and for all of us, son," she said calmly. "But we cannot fight Rome's legions. You must listen to your father and me, and do as we say. It is a good plan. Sit down with Joanna now, and finish your food, and I will tell you what you must do." Her voice was firm and full of resolve.

Benjamin slumped reluctantly back in his chair and listened as his mother continued.

"You and Joanna will leave the house as quickly as possible." she continued. "I've already packed your clothes."

Immediately Joanna began to protest, having her own definite ideas about the clothes she would choose for her stay in the mountains.

"The Romans may arrive here at any moment," Rebekah replied urgently. "You must leave our home wearing a disguise. I have laid out your grandmother's shawl, and have prepared the things you will carry. You must dress and appear like an aged woman, and walk slowly and bent over, as though partially lame. You are old enough to know why I wish to protect my girl from the Romans, aren't you?"

Joanna stared at her mother, her brow wrinkled, but she nodded meekly as her mother continued.
"Benjamin will lead you by the hand until you are well out of the city. Then you can remove the shawl that covers your face, and walk normally."

Rebekah got no further in her instructions. The door opened and Ben-Lemuel rushed in breathlessly. "Galleys are moving in the canal. In less than two hours they will be in the harbor."
With frenzied haste he helped Rebekah put the shawl on their daughter. Then they literally pushed her out of the door, together with Benjamin. With fear and determination in her eyes, Rebekah hugged each of her children fiercely, as if they were life itself. Ben-Lemuel followed them as far as the bridge across the river at the west end of town. Then he watched until they were out of sight, headed toward the distant snowcapped mountains.

RUEL HAD BEEN standing for hours on a prominent point of rock that jutted from a steep grade just below his timber-lined cavern home. A large sturdy man with dark hair and dark eyes, he studied the path far below as it wound from a stand of evergreens, looking for signs of the children. A thick cape of raw cilicium around his shoulders gave him the appearance of a mountain bear fresh from hibernation. He wore a fleece lined leather cap in typical shepherd fashion, and chewed anxiously on a bitter juniper berry.

He had known Ben-Lemuel for many years, trading raw material to the sail makers and tent makers of Tarsus through him. With the children's father in the picture, he had never again subjected himself to the degrading attitudes of Greek traders toward his mountain barbarian tribe. For that, and for many other kindnesses, he considered Rabbi Ben-Lemuel a friend for whom he would always be available in an hour of need. Never more than when his children needed concealing from the Romans.

Suddenly, he could make out the progress of two diminutive figures walking side by side in his direction. He called out to Leah, "I believe I see them! If it is truly the children, I will hurry to meet them." Quickly Ruel and his shaggy shepherd dog started down the muddy switchbacks to meet Benjamin and Joanna.

The route took him past rushing springs and clumps of birch and willow growing along the steep water routes. His feet slipped occasionally on the well-worn path. All along the descent, clusters of black mountain goats grazed on the sumptuous mountain fare.

When he arrived at the base of the ascent, he could not conceal his enthusiasm and delight. He and his wife had learned to love young Benjamin and his sister Joanna as much as their own grandson Shaphan. Leah had already laid the table with bread and cheese, and some of her own specialties that she knew the children liked.

BACK IN TARSUS, Ben-Lemuel bowed solemnly, in prayer, committing the children into God's safe keeping. Turning to his wife Rebekah, he said, "And you, my dear, now that you have taken care of the children, you must attend to yourself. In spite of your years, you appear still youthful and beautiful. Make yourself as undesirable as possible in appearance."

"Of course. You are the only one I care to please," replied Rebekah. Stepping to his side, she placed a kiss on his forehead, and said with eyes that still sparkled, in spite of the ordeal, "Love me as you see me now." From the stairs she paused, and added, "When I come down these steps again, you'll see a different person. I will be so ugly you won't know me."

"Wait! Just one moment, Rebekah. Where are the silver candlesticks and the silver plate? They have always been on display."

Rebekah turned pale. "Please, Ben-Lemuel . Please let us try . . . "

"Rebekah, if you have hidden them, I command you to return the silver objects immediately, without delay. Time is running out."

Tears welled up in Rebekah's eyes, and rolled down her cheeks as she stood silently before her husband. "I have hidden them where the Romans will never find them," she said between bitter sobs.

"But you cannot hide them," remarked Ben-Lemuel, with a sorrowful expression.
"Why do you say this, Ben-Lemuel ?"

"Because the Romans will ask me if we have anything hidden, and I cannot lie."

"Would Jehovah God not forgive you for protecting the treasures designed by the one who designed our temple?"

Slowly the rabbi shook his head. He moved closer to Rebekah, taking her hands. His expression softened as he looked into her tear-filled eyes. "Those treasures are also dear to me, Rebekah, but I cannot lie to protect them. No, I cannot, and I will not ask Jehovah God to help me tell a lie."
Realizing she could no longer disobey her husband, Rebekah fled the room, and returned in a moment with the treasures. With trembling hands, she placed them again on display in full view.
Hardly had this been done, when there came a loud knock at the door. "Open in the name of the Emperor!" The rude voice of a Roman Tribunal commanded them from outside.

As quickly as Rabbi Ben-Lemuel opened the door, the young tribune stepped before him. His appearance was most impressive. His plumed gold helmet shaded his tanned, stern face. His sword at his side and dagger on his belt were virtually concealed by the scarlet tunic draped loosely over his shoulder, held in place by an insignia that spoke silently of the power of Rome. He swaggered into the house followed by a cluster of military aides and personal guards. In a strong voice, hoarse from years of shouting orders on parade grounds and battlefields, he asked insolently, "Is this your home?"

"It is," the rabbi answered.

"It is mine now. Are you the sole proprietor?"

"Yes, I am, or, I was."

"Does everything that we see in this house represent your entire possessions?"

"Yes."

"Where is your money?"

"In the sack on the table," replied Rabbi Ben-Lemuel.

His reply brought peals of coarse laughter from the tribune's aides. When able to control their mirth, one was heard to say, "The old Jew was expecting us. How very thoughtful of him to make us so welcome."

Marcellus continued to stare at Ben-Lemuel. "I know something of Jews, I know---" Hearing a commotion behind him, the tribune whirled around to see two legionnaires struggling for possession of the silver candlesticks. One was a virtual giant of a man, and the other was short and stocky, but with massive arms. Marcellus' face grew crimson with rage. He drew his dagger and roared, "Thieving scum! Put my bounty back or I'll slit your throats here and now."

Immediately, the tall man released his grip on the candlesticks and let them fall back to the tabletop. The swarthy legionnaire was suddenly transformed from monster to mouse under the fiery gaze of his commander.

"And by all the gods of the Pantheon, if you steal anything from me it will be your last mistake." Turning again to Rabbi Ben-Lemuel, he asked, "How many rooms of Jewish hospitality are in my house?"

"Sixteen," answered the rabbi.

Turning to his aides, the tribune said, "Pick the very best room for me, two more for my staff, and one for my mistress."

"Mistresses," whispered a sly-looking soldier, winking at another as he spoke.

The tribune apparently took no insult from the remark. "That leaves twelve rooms," he continued, "which will mean six men for each small room, and eight for the large room. We will keep this main room for eating."

Until now, Ben-Lemuel had not taken his eyes off the tribune, and was not aware that Rebekah had entered the room.

"I see grandmother has joined us," said the Roman, with a smile, as he nodded toward the stairway.

Rabbi Ben-Lemuel turned and felt a pang of deep sadness as he saw his beloved wife. Rebekah had promised that in her disguise he would not know her and she had almost delivered. Her lovely face and figure were so unsightly she would evoke nothing but pity from anyone who met her.
Suddenly the tribune asked, "Where is your wife?"

Across the room Rabbi Ben-Lemuel felt Rebekah freeze with fear. This was the supreme moment of test. What would he say? Would he tell the truth as the Torah demanded? Or lie?

"I asked, Jew, where is your wife?!" roared the tribune impatiently.

Pointing to Rebekah, Rabbi Ben-Lemuel said, "This woman is the only other living being in this house."

The tribune uttered a dismissing snort. He could not hide his disappointment. His thoughts were for more than food. But he asked sarcastically, "Can the old crust fix food?"

Rabbi Ben-Lemuel fought to hold his rage at this insult. He nodded.

"Then tell her we wish to be fed in two hours. And tonight you and your old grandmother can sleep near the oven where she bakes our bread." The Roman turned his attention to more desirable things, looking admiringly toward the plate and candlesticks. "Bring those here to the table." One of his men did so and he picked up each piece and studied them individually. Silence pervaded the room for the first time. Finally he turned to his aide and said, "Find a strong box, and pack these carefully for me. I want them put in my room. I have never laid eyes on such pieces. If Cassius tried to take these from me, I would protect them with the sacred Ancile." Delighted with his find, the tribune seemed for the first time slightly more relaxed, and in an offhand manner said to Rabbi Ben-Lemuel, "Of course, you would know nothing of the sacred Ancile, would you?"

"Very little," Rabbi Ben-Lemuel replied quietly. "During the reign of King Pompilius it is said that the Ancile, an oval shield, fell from heaven. Numa, fearing that it might be lost, made eleven others like it, and entrusted these to Mars and his priests. The inscriptions read, oh, let me see, my memory says, 'May Mars guard the Emperor and the city of Rome, through the sacred shield of Numa.' Is that the Ancile of which you speak, Tribune?"

The tribune stared in amazement. At length, a smile of admiration spread across his face. Turning to his aides, he growled, "There is not one in my bunch of sword-swingers who could give such an answer." Suddenly, with a discernible gleam of greed in his eyes, he came within arms length of Rabbi Ben-Lemuel and asked, "Is what I see on display in this house truly all that you possess of material wealth? Tell me now!" Even as he spoke, he drew his dagger, and placed the side of its blade across the rabbi's throat.

From her corner of the room, Rebekah held her breath. Who could tell what this man would do? Life meant nothing to these who were trained to kill.

"You have seen everything," Ben-Lemuel replied.

Slowly removing the dagger from Rabbi Ben-Lemuel 's throat, the Roman placed the point on the rabbi's heart. "Swear to this by Jupiter."

"I do not swear by Jupiter. I serve the one true God who instructs us to swear not by any other god, or to have any other gods before Him."

The tribune's face flushed and he pressed the point of the dagger into the cloth that alone protected the rabbi's heart. "You defy me, Jew?" he said coldly.

"On the contrary. You are a man demanding truth. I honor you by speaking the truth," he replied calmly.

Rebekah listened, holding her breath in fear.

"Do you realize how easily I could plunge this dagger into your Jewish heart?" asked the Roman.

"I am sure you have done so to many others," replied the rabbi.

God Jehovah, help him! prayed Rebekah silently. The Roman will believe he is taunting him.

"So you refuse to swear by my gods?"

"There is only one true God."

The tribune studied his captive closely. "Truth means more to you than life," said the tribune. "If you weren't a lowly Jew, I might even begin to like you." Then turning back to his men, he added, "With men like you in our ranks, why, we might . . . " The tribune turned away, leaving his statement unfinished, and followed his aides up the stairs to make certain the box containing the silver plate and candlesticks were packed and placed in his room.