ANTONY & CLEOPATRA CHAPTER THREE- Page 1

WHEN THE LAST Roman cohort left Tarsus the people seemed afraid to celebrate. It had been two years since these invaders had descended on their proud city. Although the soldiers' tents had been pitched on the fields nearby, the city itself was constantly overrun with Romans who made it clear that in every level of life the people were under their feet. Now the oppressors were gone. The populace as a whole felt knocked to the ground, trodden under foot.

For Ben-Lemuel and Rebekah it was no different. As soon as they were finally alone in the tranquillity of their home they could not seem to stop looking over their shoulders, listening for the harsh voices of officers. Often they would jump at the slightest creaking of a timber in the house. Each night as they descended into sleep, they would jerk awake and lay panting with a startled feeling of guilt and fear, sensing that they were sleeping in Marcellus' bed, not their own.

On the next day after the departure of the army, however, after a top-to-bottom cleaning of the house, Ben-Lemuel sent a courier to Ruel. Without waiting an instant more, he took an ox-drawn cilicium cart and headed for the mountains to meet the children.

Ruel met him halfway. Ben-Lemuel felt a tug at his heart seeing how the children had grown during their absence. Rebekah would feel the loss twice as deeply, he knew. At least their children were alive and his gratitude to Ruel would never end. He embraced him and told him so. Young Shaphan stood by, tears streaming down his face. He was losing a brother and sister he had learned to love.

Upon a joyous return to home and Rebekah, Benjamin and Joanna found the house pretty much as they had left it. But they had changed. They had spent two years with a foreign shepherd family. So much of the life they knew in Tarsus had begun to grow dim in their minds. Vivid sights and smells of the Parthian caves in the mountains had become more familiar and comforting to them. Joanna, a young woman now, went around the house touching everything, smelling it. They slept little that first night.

For Benjamin, almost ten years old now, the mountains had been one big adventure. He talked incessantly about the caves and secret paths, remote lush valleys, glaciers, and the wild animals he'd seen with his little Parthian brother, Shaphan. He boasted of his skills at surviving the snowy winters, of fire making--- and he was brimming with excitement about seeing the Roman army pass through the Cilician Gates.

The great marching legions had ascended the mountains on their overland route to Philippi like a huge and powerful serpent. "The ground shook," Benjamin said, his eyes glowing.

"You are well named, 'Benjamin'," Ben-Lemuel said, watching his son's animated eyes. "You have a natural attraction to war. Fighters from our tribe of Benjamin were the best in Israel. When going into battle our soldiers would often shout, 'After you Benjamin, after you!'"

Benjamin smiled proudly.

Ben-Lemuel had learned from Ruel that both children had come to the mouth of the cave to watch the Roman army below. Joanna had cried uncontrollably at the sight, finding it all too frightening. She had wanted only to run home as fast as her feet would carry her, fearing the worst had befallen her parents and friends in Tarsus. But Benjamin, a Benjamite in every respect, had been fascinated by the spectacle. This triggered a mix of pride and concern in Ben-Lemuel. Bravery and foolishness were closely intertwined in the untrained person. The courage and indiscretions of Samson came to mind.

Benjamin went on to describe for his father how the column had ascended the valley floor displaying its strategic precision; cohorts flanking the hills on either side of the main body, scouts scouring the route ahead, supply wagons behind, the chanted marching cadence occasionally barked out by the formations. Flying banners and eagle standards rode at the head of the main group, held high in the blazing sun. He felt as if he had seen an underworld dragon uncoiling across the world, changing history, writing history with its armored scales.

Next, his questions to his father about the occupation began in an endless stream, one after another. Ben-Lemuel and Rebekah both were glad for each one of them. They felt strongly urged to help him understand the larger picture of life and war. He must know the terrible things that had befallen Tarsus. He needed to hear the names of his friends who would never play in the streets again. They told him of the death of his cousin Joel, yet without revealing the full graphic nature of it, and the horrible suicide of his mother. Later, Rabbi Eliashib filled-in for Benjamin the episode of tent making, and the heroic part played by his father, Ben-Lemuel.

In the days following, the Rabbi related to his adventurous son more of the ugly side of this marching army he had so admired. Their shame had been written in the bloody streets while he had been wisely hidden in Ruel's cave. Yet, the story of Marcellus and the silver treasures were also added to his list of impressions about soldiers. And the story of that final conversation into the night, just before he had departed.

"To understand this terrible time, son," the wise Rabbi concluded, "you must not close your eyes to all that happened, the good and the bad of it. In every brutal soldier, taking lives with the edge of the sword, there remains a trace of the image of His Creator--- though he denies it with curses and bloodshed. Yet, in each of us who would judge him, yes, even condemn him, because we seek to know our Creator and worship him in truth--- there is in us the hidden stain of our ancestor Cain who slew his brother Abel. We must never deny the truth that though we are chosen to carry His word, we are part of this tragic, fallen world, separated with all men from the Garden of God. If we forget that, we can become as evil as the most cruel of Roman or Persian soldiers. Indeed, we can become more evil in God's eyes because we know the truth, we have the Law and the Prophets."