The Tent Makers CHAPTER ONE - Page 4

THE NEW LEGIONNAIRES soon arrived, reinforcing the original force of invaders. They came in slave-driven Roman galleys full of more evil for Tarsus. It was difficult to imagine that the local residents could endure more hardship and suffering. But as bitter as the past experiences had been, they were nothing compared to what lay just ahead. The Republican Romans were seeking a new commodity for sale. They needed a greater treasure yet to fuel their plans against Antony and Octavian. They alone could stop the Triumvirate from transforming the great Republic of states into a unified Empire under an absolute ruler. Nothing could be held back in such a desperate hour.

Rabbi Ben-Lemuel listened impassively from the window of their house where he and Rebekah watched in dread.

"They have stripped our homes and places of worship," Rebekah seethed, watching them set up camp in the newly manufactured tents of cilicium. "They have stolen the deeds to our lands, and have demanded ten years' tax money be paid in one year---" At this point she paused as one struggling for breath. "What more can they demand?"

Ben-Lemuel did not answer aloud, instead he mouthed a word as he stood motionless watching the last of the ships unload its cargo of death. As he did so, the morning air suddenly filled with shrieks and cries from the streets below.

Rebekah turned to look at him and the color drained from her face. "Oh, No! It cannot be!"
"This cursed civil war," Ben-Lemuel whispered.

The rabbi and his wife rushed to the entrance of their home. In the street Roman legionnaires with drawn daggers were moving in all directions. Forcing entrance into every home, they emerged dragging children by their hands or by their hair. Weapons were red with the blood of parents who resisted.

Rebekah covered her eyes, and reeled unsteadily as though she would fall. Catching her in his arms, Ben-Lemuel assisted her back into the house where she collapsed in a chair.

"I will return," he promised, and hurried out into the streets once again. Everywhere he ran the same nightmare was taking place. Bit by bit the story was shouted by soldiers carrying out their orders. Thus, Ben-Lemuel learned that Cassius needed even more money than his auction had raised. Facing an imminent battle against Octavian and Antony, he had sent orders by courier that the children of Tarsus must be sold as slaves to make up the shortfall.

Soon Ben-Lemuel had seen and heard enough. He retreated back into his house to wait out the carnage and whisper gratitude to Jehovah that Joanna and Benjamin were safely in the high Taurus Mountains.

That night he lay awake with a scene playing over and over in his mind. Having seen it, he feared that his mind would never allow him to forget. Even worse, he wondered if he would ever see his own children again without feeling a pang of guilt for hiding them, when other children such as his own nephew had not been hidden, and had died in horrible fashion: That day he had seen little Joel dragged from his neighboring house by a Roman soldier, and he had seen also the boy's mother Anna rushing behind him with a long meat knife in her hand. With superhuman strength, she had plunged the blade into the Roman's back between the plates of his armored cuirass. The kidnapper had been able to make only a single groan before collapsing at her feet.

Two legionnaires, seeing what she had done, rushed her quickly to kill her--- but not quickly enough. Before they could reach her, she had drawn out the bloodstained knife from the Roman, driving it first into the heart of her son Joel, and then, with a scream of anguish and defiance, into her own heart. Glaring in pure hatred at her conquerors, she had slowly sunk to her knees, the scream dying on her lips as she took from these men all of their power.

For a moment the two legionnaires had been arrested in their tracks by this stunning act. Then, spurred on by her provocative desperation, they had returned to their bloody work with a redoubled rage, merciless fire in their hearts toward all other resistance they met along the way.

The noise from the streets raged on. Women screaming, men shouting, soldiers cursing, and children crying. In the midst of the mayhem, the Romans continued relentlessly, stepping over bodies lying in blood on the pavements in their search for more children to sell on the slave market.

Tribune Marcellus waited for the cargo of war, riding his white stallion back and forth in the city square. Within a few hours, the number of children chained and waiting before him swelled to more than two thousand.

From a distance, distraught parents of Tarsus pled and wept for mercy, and held out their arms pleading for their children, to no avail. Any parent who tried to free their child was silenced permanently, swiftly--- and in the twisted way of war--- perhaps mercifully.

Finally the tribune called, "Enough!" And the long procession of children in chains moved slowly from the city. On the outskirts, legionnaires with drawn swords stood ready to dispose of any parent who sought to accompany the captives. The sounds of the wailing children grew fainter as they were led toward Lake Rhegma and the waiting galleys.

Late that night Rabbi Eliashib knocked at the back door of Rabbi Ben-Lemuel 's home. "We have collected 280 bodies of our own from the streets. There are children held in the arms of parents, lying just as they fell. Many parents chose to take the lives of their own children, as well as their own, rather than submit to the Romans. Men fought without weapons to free their young. We can tell those who were killed violently from others who chose death rather than slavery for their children. We also have found the bodies of 232 Romans. Tell me, my wise friend, does God still see? Or did He close His eyes today?"

Rabbi Ben-Lemuel could not speak. He embraced his old friend and wept with him. After a time of grieving together, he held Eliashib by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. "Perhaps today we must learn the faith of Job; with all of his children taken, did he curse God?"

As Eliashib turned wearily away again he said, "I am not Job."

"Nor am I. But God did not close his eyes, my friend. One day, every drop of innocent blood will be avenged. One day."

IN THE DAYS that followed, the agony and tension in the city of Tarsus became stifling. The streets of were red with clotted pools of blood. Dogs ran here and there, licking it up until the offended friends and relatives of the ones who had fallen drove the animals off with curses and hurled stones. As the burial processions multiplied, the citizens of Tarsus grew more desperate in their hatred for the occupying army.