THE PIRATES CHAPTER SEVEN - Page 3

EARLY THE FOLLOWING morning, Shaphan watched Saul and Marcus follow the winding path through the trees on their way to the main caravan road that would take them to the pass. "I do believe we shall have Chebar and Kho for guests tonight, Mishna, dear," he said, as he ate an extra slice of warm bread before starting down through the canyon. "And, if you don't mind, I will take a basket of your bread to them now."

"Of course," she said, hurrying to collect the remaining loaves from the warming stone of the oven.

After half-a-morning's climb, Saul and Marcus reached the Cilician Gates. They had no question about whether or not they had found it. The passage through the sheer rock was no more than 20 feet in width. One ox cart could barely pass at a time. It was as though some supernatural power had cut a path directly through the mountain, but the Tarsians were responsible for this phenomenal undertaking. They wished to have a path leading from the coast, and their province of Cilicia, to Cappadocia, Galatia, Bithynia, Pontus, and the other regions of Asia Minor. To accomplish it they had sculpted this wonder out of the sheer rock. In recent years the Romans had perfected the road, and Tarsus had been rewarded with increased trade and wealth.

"What a feat," breathed Marcus, in awe. "I would have to see this personally to believe it."

Retracing their steps, they hurried down to a large flat rock at the edge of one of the streams that tumbled from the snow fields above. They hungrily opened their baskets and ate the bread, berries and cheese that Mishna had prepared. Each of the small loaves of bread had been baked with bits of cheese, onion and herbs inside. The boys devoured them hungrily. Afterward, they relaxed in the sun on the rock.

"Have you read Xenophon's Anabasis?"

"No, but I have heard of him. What did he do?"

"Well, 400 years ago he marched through these gates with an army of 10,000--"

"--Oh yeah, I have heard of Xenophon's 10,000."

"Right. Did you know that Alexander the Great studied his march when he set out to conquer the world?"

"No. Tell me about it."

"Well, the march was a retreat, a 1,500 mile retreat, and a desperate one."

"So why would Alexander study a retreat?"

"You know what success is, don't you? A careful study of failure."

"That is good to remember."

"Yes, that is another of the maxims from 'The Wisdom of Ben-Lemuel.' Anyway, do you know how Xenophon got himself into such a mess?"

"No."

"Guess."

"Poor planning."

"Not exactly. Well, first of all, he left his studies with Socrates. When my father first had us read Anabasis in synagogue he said, 'See? He should have stayed in school.'"

Marcus laughed. "Every teacher's moral. Stay in school."

"Anyway, Xenophon quit school to join a Greek army of adventurers recruited by Cyrus the Younger. They were going to march out to Persia and put old Cyrus back on the Persian throne. Problem was, the throne was occupied by his brother Artaxerxes, who wanted to keep it in the worst sort of way. Kings are like that, you know. So, Cyrus' army marched to Persia and the campaign was a disaster. Cyrus was killed at Cunaxa, and so were most of his other commanders. The army scattered and regrouped and realized that there was no reason to stay in Persia. So, they elected Xenophon to lead them back home."

"What a march that must have been from Persia!" said Marcus. "Your people followed some of that path getting to Tarsus from Nineveh, right? They came along the Tigris River, over the hills of Kurdistan and Armenia to get here to the Cilician Gates."

"Right, but they were fighting most of the way. The Persians and other local armies would attack them along the route. There were few days they were not harassed in some way. And, of course, while people remember Xenophon's 10,000, one-in-ten of his men died on the march. But they passed through this very pass on their way home. Now, here we are, seeing it with our own eyes."

"I remember that when they got home the soldier cried with relief and kissed the ground. Xenophon praised the gods for his return."

After a short silence, Saul said, "My father saw an even larger Army pass through the Gates. He was staying at Shaphan's, which was Ruel's house at the time, and he watched two legions under Tribune Marcellus pass through. This pass has seen the march of history, hasn't it?" Saul stood and stretched. "Well, I have enjoyed Mishna's food. A nice rest. What do you say we now go back. The nice part is, it is all downhill."

"Hooray!" Marcus shouted, his voice echoing from the opposite side of the canyon.

With that, the two started through the trees and down a winding path that was familiar to Saul.

It was afternoon when Saul and Marcus arrived back at the shepherd's home. Shaphan was eager to hear Marcus' account of the Cilician Gates. After he had finished and disappeared to take care of personal business, Shaphan observed to Saul about how proud Marcus seemed to be of what the ancient Tarsians had done in the pass. "You would think the Romans had engineered the Gates. I think you have made a friend for your people here in Cilicia."

"I hope so."

Shaphan noticed that Saul was looking at the large table spread for the evening meal. "Mishna prepared for six tonight."

"Chebar and Kho are coming?"

Shaphan nodded, his eyes twinkling with delight.

Marcus rejoined the two of them.

"Chebar and Kho are coming," Saul announced.

"How exciting! We will be with real pirates!"

"Chebar," said Saul thoughtfully. "Isn't there a tributary to the Tigris River near Babylon named Chebar?"

"That is what your grandfather Ben-Lemuel told us," said Shaphan.

"Why would grandfather mention that river? What does that have to do with the name of this . . . " He almost said pirate, but stopped abruptly, and then said, "the name of our friend who is coming?"

"Because it was in a battle with the Romans in Mesopotamia that Chebar's people were first taken prisoner. Your grandfather Ben-Lemuel came to our cavern briefly when Chebar and Kho were hiding here, Saul. He recommended they change their names because they were hunted men. When he learned that they had come from families in Mesopotamia, he said, 'Why not choose the names of the rivers Chebar and Khoser?' We shortened Khoser to Kho."

The conversation was cut short at this point with sounds of laughter from below the grassy bench. Looking over, they saw the two neighbors from across the canyon. Chebar's dark skin was framed in a massive head of hair and a beard of gray. He looked to be in his mid-sixties. He wore a turban and his nose and ears were pierced with silver rings. His piercing dark eyes looked out from heavy brows, and they seemed to sparkle with a perpetual expression of amusement. He was attired in the same manner as Shaphan, with a sheepskin vest draped around his massive shoulders. Kho was perhaps a bit younger than Chebar, but he did not appear as rugged as his friend. Something in his life had left a wasting mark on his muscular body. He walked more slowly, and painfully, needing help now and then, which Chebar seemed quite ready to provide.

Even as they made their way up the path approaching Shaphan's dwelling, Chebar continued to laugh and joke with his friend. It was obvious that they felt much at home with Shaphan and his wife. And as they topped the rise, they were welcomed as though members of the family.

They showed no suspicion of Saul and Marcus, when introduced to them as friends. Saul was of the opinion that these men who had tasted much of life's bitter cup had learned more about the values of living than many other men their age.

After everyone had eaten a sumptuous evening meal prepared by Mishna, Shaphan put more sheepskins on the benches in their small courtyard. The smell of sweet dessert breads drifted from the oven. Each man, and the two boys, took a steaming cup of rich coffee, flavored with cinnamon bark, and took a seat in a semicircle, feeling the warmth of the oven on their backs.

Shaphan started the conversation by telling Chebar and Kho that Marcus was the grandson of Quintus Tullius, the brother of Cicero, who served as governor of Cilicia during the time of Ben-Lemuel. He said, "Cicero was a great Roman orator. He brought his brother Quintus and his son here to help him fight off an invasion of Parthians."

Chebar nodded absently. He turned to Marcus saying it was interesting to learn he was a grandson of someone so famous as Quintus, and trusted he would find Tarsus a pleasant place to live. "It has known some good years," he said, "and also some bitter years before your time. At the present, things are good--and my days are numbered. What I have experienced will not be seen again." There was a faraway expression in his eyes.

Because Chebar was more prone to talk than Kho, Shaphan addressed his remarks more directly to him. "If you feel free, Chebar, to share your story with us, I believe it would prove delightful, and the lads will appreciate hearing it most of all."

"Well, our journey began when both of us were taken captives by the Romans," Chebar began. "We were brought from Mesopotamia to the slave market on the island of Delos." Turning to Marcus, he said, "This market at Delos is probably the greatest slave market in the empire. Every week the slave traders bring their captives there. Buyers come from many parts of the empire, from Africa, Spain, Germany, Greece, and port cities all around the Mediterranean and Black Seas. As many as 10,000 slaves have been sold there in a single day."

"Wow," whispered Marcus. "Rome has too many slaves."

"So many say that but Delos still does business," said Chebar, with a sigh, as though reliving momentarily his day on the block. "War was brewing then between Octavian and Antony. This was quite before your time, boys. Antony, of course, was in league with Cleopatra, and it was known there would be a decisive battle fought at sea. Octavian had an admiral named Agrippa, Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa to be exact. He came from an obscure family, but became a close friend of Octavian, who as you know, became the emperor we now call Augustus. Well, Agrippa married Octavian's daughter Julia, and had five children by her. But now," said Chebar, his face reddening, "I am getting away from my story. We are not interested in the number of children Agrippa raised with the emperor's daughter, are we? I am supposed to be talking about slaves and ships but I have always had a soft place for children in here." He thumped his great chest with the flat of his palm. "I had hoped to have five or more of my own with the lovely Susina." He closed his eyes, "Oh Susina."

For a moment he was lost again. "She was killed by the Romans or I would have returned for her." He wiped at his eyes and cleared his throat of a sudden huskiness. "We had a large home in Mesopotamia, and could have supported a large family. But it was not my lot. I was taken to Delos and sold to the highest bidder, who was Antony. The same is true for my friend Kho, here."

Shaphan nodded at the boys with a knowing expression. Chebar had been confined to his isolated retreat. Kho, his one and only close friend, was not given to much conversation, so it was most excusable that Chebar should occasionally drift from the subject of his story.

"You know of galley slaves, I suppose?" Chebar asked.

The boys nodded eagerly.

"Well that is what we were. This naval engagement between Octavian and Antony with Cleopatra was going to be a decisive battle. A victory for Antony and Cleopatra would spell the end of Rome. Antony would make himself king, and Cleopatra queen, and they would rule the world together from Egypt."

Chebar paused, as though collecting his thoughts. "Well, you know Antony decided to build huge boats with three decks of oars called Triremes. At the time, these were considered very powerful because they hauled so many troops. It took 200 galley slaves to move one of them through the water. The oars, you see, were about 50 feet in length. It took six men to operate each oar. Three or four oars protruded from each porthole. All of the men who manned the oars were prisoners taken by the Romans, or slaves purchased at the slave market. Naturally the buyers looked for the most physically fit. At the slave market the owners would scrub our skin with sand and ashes, and polish us with oil to make us look strong. You know how the runners do this at the Marathon games?"

The boys nodded again.

"Well, Antony and Cleopatra had their buyers at our auction. They did not seem to care how much they had to spend. Octavian was more sparing with his money. His admiral, Marcus Agrippa, who was a young man of only 32 years of age at the time, was also less reckless in his bidding. Agrippa was a very capable admiral. Far better than Antony. Antony built 500 big Triremes that could carry 100,000 infantry men and 12,000 cavalry in the belly. Agrippa chose to build only 400 of the smaller Roman galleys with only one deck. These boats were driven with only 50 oars, and he had 80,000 foot soldiers on board, 20,000 less than Antony.'

"Antony bought me and Kho for one of his Triremes. The day came when we were brought in and chained to our seats. I was number five on our oar, and on the outside end of the oar--which proved fateful, the gods be praised. After some training, about all we needed to do was have strength to pull the oar and keep in time to the beat of the master. The navigator had control of directing the ship.'

"It was a September morning when we left port and spent almost a year practicing maneuvers. The following September, we entered the Ambracian Gulf, and met the Roman Armada at Actium. For us, it was disaster. Agrippa's smaller ships, much more easily maneuvered than the leviathans we were on, moved among our ships, with Agrippa's men following their well-devised plan of casting fire brands onto our ships to set them ablaze. Our ships on that hot September day became floating infernos. When the master in charge of us in the galley saw our ship was aflame and doomed to sink, he had mercy enough to defy his orders from Antony and unlock our chains. We dove into the sea and swam through the flaming wreckage of many vessels, until we arrived at some shore, we knew not where."

Chebar paused for a moment, and Marcus said, "I recall reading the report on Actium. It told how many of Antony's men died in the smoke even before the flames reached them. The ones in armor were roasted alive. The only ones who died easily were the ones killed in combat."

"True," Chebar continued, "but those of us who were galley slaves were not much in mourning for a roasted legionnaire on that day."

"I imagine not," Marcus was quick to reply.

"No," Chebar said, grinning to show his stained teeth. "If a roasted legionnaire had washed ashore with us, we were hungry enough to have eaten him." He chuckled at his own gruesome comment. "As it turned out, a pirate ship came scavenging along after the battle. It came ashore to the small island where some of us had washed up. Knowing we had little in the way of weapons, or food, or even strength to defend ourselves, they took us to serve in their own galleys. Kho and I were taken on board a pirate vessel that worked the Phoenician coast. The master of our ship was one of the cruelest men I ever knew. When any one in the galley showed signs of weakening, he would be lashed unmercifully until the blood would run from his back to the bench where he was sitting. And if he did not recover sufficiently to man the oar, he would be unshackled and his body thrown to the sharks.'

"All of the galley slaves hated this man. I do not know his real name. The men only referred to him as Diabla. One night I had a dream. In my dream I always heard someone say to me that Diabla's strength was also his weakness. Every night this dream continued. I told no one. One day at the oars I watched Diabla beat a man to death. The man wanted to die and Diabla was enraged. The man seemed beyond pain. Diabla's power was broken on me in that moment, and I knew what the meaning to my dream was. I began to plan an escape using Diabla's own way with men.'

"I told no one except Kho. One night during sleep I spoke with him. I asked him if he was ready to die. He said yes. I then told him that a man ready to die had power over Diabla if he chose to use it. I told him my plan. We knew it could cost our lives, but we had no future in the galley anyway. We decided to take the risk.'

"Word reached us that the pirates of our ship planned to strike a small village just above Seleucia. That would place Diabla under strain. He would be at his worst--which was predictable. We all knew there was a Roman cohort in Seleucia, but that it was 30 miles to the south. The pirates would have to strike quickly and leave before the Romans could be notified and arrive. The nearest vessels of the Roman navy were anchored in the Gulf of Issus. The pirates had everything their way providing there were no unexpected delays.'

"It was a stormy night. Apparently the captain of our ship planned to sail along the coast of Pamphylia and attack a small village near Attalia in Lycia. As our ship moved along the coast and closed in on the harbor, I knew that the hour had come to escape.'

"I could hear Diabla approaching, cursing those who manned the oars. I could hear the hiss of the lash and the sickening sound of its thongs, embedded with pieces of bone, striking naked flesh. I had already decided that my back would be next. I heard the groan of a man behind me as he struck. The men beside me, through clenched teeth, and silently of course, muttered curses at this man whose name suggested that he was more devil than man. When I realized that he was directly behind me, I gave a loud gasp and fell forward on my oar. This upset the stroke of the men who pulled on the same oar with me and our oar tangled with several others outside the porthole. Immediately the motion of the ship listed to one side and faltered in the water.'

"I closed my eyes, and clenched my teeth when I heard the whip in the air, and the lashes that fell across my shoulders violently, again and again. The blood ran down my back in keeping with the torrent of curses that poured on me from the men at my side who did not wish to receive the same beating. Diabla cursed, his mouth in a vile stream of vulgarity. When his strokes failed to rouse me to an upright position, it left him only one alternative, and he had to act fast. From the deck above, the captain began to curse Diabla."

Chebar stopped to laugh at the memory. Kho, too, was smiling and nodding, recalling how Chebar had frustrated the entire mission with his iron willed tactic.

"Well, Diabla grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked most of it out by the roots. He twisted my head back and stared into my face." Chebar twisted his head back and rolled his eyes up to illustrate the moment.

Marcus and Saul were transfixed, watching with wide eyes.

"I drooled for him, I played the man next to death." He chuckled again. "My heart beat faster. If, for an instant, he thought I was feigning my collapse, he would draw his dagger and I would be stabbed to death. He dropped me back and I heard him shout orders for another slave to be brought. Apparently I had passed the first step of my escape plan.'

"Then came the moment."

Kho began laughing aloud with the old memory, as if it were happening again in a theater play.

"I heard him remove the keys from his belt. I waited. It seemed too long, I waited. The sound I wanted above all else to hear, was the key in the lock that opened and released my chain. He must have been convinced that I was nearly dead, because he was less cautious than at first. Also, the ship had lost precious time as it was on its attack run. When he unlocked the chain, I struck him."

"Ah, ha, ha, ha!" Kho was nearly beside himself with the memory of Chebar's action. He rocked back and forth in his chair, his fists doubled in glee as Chebar continued.

"I struck him with all of the fury of my slavery. It seemed to be released in the first blows of my fists. I felt bone break with the first blow. The second blow caved in his ribs, I know that, but every move was like in a dream. All happened with lightning speed and by pure animal instinct. I was a man fighting the one and only chance to be free that I expected to see in this world. I do not know if he lived--"

"No, no," Kho said, shaking his head. "I saw, I saw."

For Saul and Marcus the night chill had taken on another kind of coldness, the coldness of desperate men in a kill-or-be-killed world.

"Diabla fell between the oarsmen. Perhaps they finished what I had started, I don't know. I was free from my chains, and I leapt to my feet and had time only to unlock Kho. I longed to loose the chains from every man in the galley. But the commotion had already aroused others, and amidst the noise of voices I knew the pirates on deck above us were already descending. How we managed to make it to the upper deck, I still do not know. We had to overcome the first pirate who blocked our way. We did so. The ship was rolling now in a heavy sea and a lot of confusion helped us.'

"When I reached the rail I could feel Kho right behind me. The clouds were low, and there was not a ray of light from the heavens. Several arms grabbed us tightly in the darkness, but once free of my chains there would be no human arm strong enough to hold me back. I must have torn arms from their sockets in my rage. Someone had stabbed Kho with a dagger. I pulled it from him and threw him overboard. Slashing in the dark at the others, I broke free and threw myself into the sea. Breaking the surface I looked for Kho and found him. Behind us we could hear curses on the water, which gave me more energy to swim for shore. The strong wind filling their sail in the storm swept them on down the coast and we were left alone."

At this point, Chebar closed his eyes, remembering. "I do not mind telling you boys that I was crying in the water," he said. "I was crying with joy. The water was ice cold that night. But strangely enough, it seemed almost warm and friendly. The sea felt like the arms of my Mesopotamian mother who had been killed without mercy by a Roman so long ago--as if she was embracing me with love and life once more. Only a galley slave chained for years to an inhuman task in the bowels of a ship, who can only look forward to the sting of the lash until he is too old or weak to serve, can know what I felt in that water."

For a long moment, Chebar simply sat, silently remembering. No one spoke.

"It is odd, but I do not remember swimming. I remember my feet striking the pebbles of a long sand spit in the water. I remember walking, dragging Kho and stumbling onto a rainy shore that was colder than the water. We were on the shores of Cilicia at the mouth of the Cydnus River. We could see the mountains rising up in the night, these Taurus mountains, and we knew they would be our new home. But first we had to get there.'

"We came across a fisherman's tent. His nets were strung on a driftwood and his boat tied to it. He had come ashore to escape the fury of the storm. When we stood bleeding in the opening to his tent, we saw that his young son was with him. I asked for dry clothes and the man immediately took off his clothes and gave them to me. He found a dry set of clothing in an oilskin and gave that to Kho. Kho was bleeding from his stab wound and I asked the man to bind him. He did. Otherwise, we left them unmolested."

Chebar continued by telling how they chose to climb the mountain in whose top they could see a number of caves. "We had come almost halfway up the mountain when Kho became too weak to climb any further," said Chebar. "I put him in a hiding place, and went on alone in search of food. It was then I spied Shaphan, he was just a boy, somewhat older than the two of you--a young man, I should say. He brought his father Ruel out of the cave to see me as I approached," he pointed down the slope, "right there."

He looked at Shaphan and laughed. "Both Shaphan and Ruel had their eyes peeled, I tell you that!"

Shaphan smiled and spit a long stream of chew, nodding with agreement. "Well, they looked me over good. But when Ruel spoke--" Chebar suddenly choked on tears and looked away from the boys. It took him a long moment to compose himself again. "When Ruel spoke, his voice was the first kindly voice I had heard since leaving my home in Mesopotamia. I will never forget what he said. Never forget. He said, 'What can we do for you?'" Chebar now gazed without shame at Shaphan, letting his tear roll.

Shaphan fought tears as he also remembered. Clearing his throat he said, "It was not difficult to see that he was an escaped slave. The whip had raised ugly welts across his face. His clothes did not fit. Shipwrecks, slaves, pirates, outcasts, highway robbers--they have made up much of our population here in the mountains. There are many caves."

"Well," said Chebar, "Ruel asked Leah to prepare food. And never, never can I remember ever eating bread and cheese, and honey and fruit, that was more delicious. I wept and wept through that meal, didn't I Kho?"

Kho nodded. His expression had grown serious.

"I wondered if I was dreaming. And most of all, along with the food, there was kindness. Ruel and Shaphan did not ask where we were going, or where we might stay. They knew without being told, we had nothing, and had no place to go. So it was that he told us of the good cave across the canyon, and helped us make it livable for the time. I kept asking myself and asking Kho, 'Why would Ruel and his wife treat us so kindly?' They were aware that we were only escaped galley slaves from the pirate ships. We had nothing, nothing at all with which to repay them for their kindness."

"But my family has not always been this way," said Shaphan. "We hated pirates, hated slaves, hated--" he looked directly at Marcus, "--we especially hated Romans. But all of this changed. It changed a few years before Chebar and Kho arrived," said Shaphan, "when Ben-Lemuel came seeking a place to hide his son Benjamin, and his daughter Joanna. As you know, Benjamin is Saul's father. Saul, had it not been for the teaching of your grandfather, Ben-Lemuel, my shepherd father Ruel may never have taught me." Then turning to Marcus, he said, "When I say he taught me, I mean he taught me the laws of God, the eternal word of God that lifts us above our hatred. He taught me that the word of God endures forever. We must look beyond our differences to the truth of God."

At this point, Chebar glanced at the darkening sky, and said, "Kho, we must be going." Shaphan and his wife Mishna stood, as did Saul and Marcus, as Chebar helped his old galley mate to his feet.

Marcus walked over to the two men and held out his hand. Chebar took it and smiled at him. "I came on this trip to see the Cilician Gates. Now I know I came for another reason. I will never forget your story, Chebar. You have made me see things I could never learn in school. Thank you, for letting me hear it."

"Well, next time you are in the mountains, come visit our cave."

"I will. I promise."

Saul and Shaphan were grinning at one another from ear to ear.

After watching the men work their way down the slope in the dark, Marcus turned to Shaphan and said, "You pulled my leg. They are not pirates, they are escaped from a pirate ship."

Shaphan nodded and looked down, studying the ground in seriousness. "But Marcus, they would be treated as pirates by the Roman authorities if they are ever discovered up here. Do you understand?"

Marcus nodded silently. "My lips are sealed."

That night Saul and Marcus slept soundly in the mountain home of the shepherd. Arising at sunrise, they ate a hearty breakfast of fresh bread, cheese, tea and mountain greens stewed with onions. After many heartfelt "thank yous" and a fond farewell, they started down the mountain on their way back to Tarsus.