"And my sons will die," said James. His face was twisted with anguish. "My sons will die the way men died before, and for what?"
Avigail came in with Silent Hannah, and the usual following of little ones.
"Please no more talk of this," said my aunt Esther.
"My father says the world has gone to Caesarea," said Avigail. "We had a letter from our cousins in Bethany. Your cousins, our cousins, all of them from Bethany. They've gone as well." She burst into tears.
All the children crowded around her to comfort her. "They'll all come home," said Isaac, her little protector. He snuggled up to her immediately. "I promise you, Avigail. I give you my word. They'll be back. My brothers will be back. Stop. You'll make Silent Hannah cry. . . ."
"And who is left in Nazareth, do you think?" asked James bitterly. He turned to me. "Ah!" he said with mock surprise. "Yeshua, the Sinless."
Avigail looked up, startled. Her eyes moved over the faces of everyone there. She looked at me.
"And James, the Just! Is left here too," declared my aunt Esther.
"James, the Merciless!" said Aunt Salome. "Be quiet, or go yourself."
"No, no . . . hush now, all of you," said my mother.
"Yes, please, I didn't mean to . . . I'm sorry," said Avigail.
"You did nothing," I said.
And so on the day went.
And the next day.
And the day after.
Chapter Nine
THE BRIGANDS HIT THE VILLAGE AT DAWN.
James and I had just come out of the Rabbi's door. We stood at the top of the hill. And we saw them - two ragged men on horseback - racing down the far slope towards the creek.
The women with their water jars and bundles of laundry screamed and scattered in all directions, children racing with them.
James and I gave the alarm. The horn was blasting as we ran towards the men.
Only one drove his mount uphill right towards us, and as people came out of the doors on all sides, he pressed into us and we fell backwards, the hooves stomping past our heads.
"Avigail," James cried out. "Avigail" came another shout and then another. As I scrambled to my feet, my hand bleeding, I saw what all saw: the man who stayed behind had snatched her up by the waist. The children hurled their stones at him. Isaac dragged at the man's left shoulder.
Avigail screamed and kicked. The children grabbed hold of her flailing ankles.
All the women rushed at the man, hurling their jars at his horse.
We reached the creek bed as, assailed on all sides, the ruffian let loose of Avigail, pulling her veil and mantle free as she slammed to the rocky ground. Brandishing her robes like a flag the man, ducking low to escape the hail of stones flung at him, rode away as fast as he could.
Avigail scrambled up, drawing her knees under her and bending forward. She was in her long-sleeved tunic and her hair was streaming over her face and shoulders. Little Isaac threw his arms around her to shield her from all eyes.
I reached her and went down on my knees in front of her and took her by the shoulders.
She screamed my name and clung to me. Blood ran from her forehead and her cheek.
"They're gone," cried James. All the women surrounded us. My aunt Esther cried she'd gotten the man good with her jar. She'd broken it on his very head. The children were sobbing and running to and fro.
Cries came from above.