landed in a clatter, a shower of black cinders. The smell of smoke wafted over the room.
Whatever this is, it is the workings of Judas.
“My date palms have been maliciously burned,” Nathaniel said. “Half of my grove set on fire. My olive trees survived only because I took care to put a man in the watchtower who raised the alarm in time.”
Father looked from the branch to Nathaniel. He said, “And you think it prudent to beat on my door and toss the evidence on my floor?” He seemed genuinely confounded by Nathaniel’s anger.
Nathaniel, this little man. His head didn’t reach Father’s jaw, but he stepped toward him, puffed up and righteous. He would tell Father now who was to blame, for I could see he knew. I pictured Judas’s earnest face at the mikvah.
“It was your son who set the torch,” Nathaniel bellowed. “Judas and Simon ben Gioras and their brigands.”
“It cannot be Judas,” Mother cried, and the men looked up, Nathaniel noticing me for the first time, and in that unguarded moment, even from this high distance, I saw his loathing for me.
“Leave us,” Father ordered, but of course we did not. We backed from the rail, listening. “Did you see him yourself? Are you certain it was Judas?”
“I saw him with my own eyes as he laid waste to my trees. And if there was doubt of it, he cried out, ‘Death to the rich and unscrupulous. Death to Herod Antipas. Death to Rome.’ Then, raising his voice even louder, he shouted, ‘I am Judas ben Matthias.’”
I dared to creep to the edge of the balcony. Father had turned his back to Nathaniel and was attempting to gather himself. For women, the cruelest state is to be denied; for men it’s to be stricken with shame, and Father was awash in it. I felt a prick of sorrow for him.
When he turned to Nathaniel, his face was a mask. He questioned Nathaniel about every detail. How many men did you see? What hour did they come? Were they on horseback? Which way did they retreat? As they spoke, Father’s disgrace was set aside by rage.
“There’s a reason Judas went out of his way to declare himself your son,” Nathaniel said. “He meant to put you in disfavor with Herod Antipas. If that happens, Matthias . . . if you lose your power with Antipas, you will be in no position to carry out our arrangement and there will be no reason for me to go through with it.”
Had Nathaniel just put forth a threat to end the betrothal? Oh, Judas, how clever you are. Of course, Antipas would not tolerate Father’s son waging these attacks. It would drive a wedge between them, making it impossible for Father to hold up his end of the bargain!
“Judas is no son to me,” Father said. “He’s not of my flesh, but adopted from my wife’s family. From this day, he is anathema to me. He is a stranger. If I must, I will declare it before Antipas himself.”
I couldn’t bring myself to look at Mother.
“I will see him punished,” he went on. “There are rumors that Simon and his men hide in Arbel Gorge. I will dispatch soldiers to scavenge every cleft and turn over every rock.”
Standing beside Nathaniel, the worker who’d brought in the branch shifted nervously. Let him be the spy Judas spoke of. Let him warn my brother.
Father had done a good job of pacifying Nathaniel. Too good, I feared.
After he departed, Father withdrew to his study and Mother dragged me into her room and closed the door. “Why would Judas commit this atrocious act?” she cried. “Why would he call out his name? Didn’t he know doing so would antagonize Antipas against your father? Did he mean to punish Matthias at the risk of his own life?”
I said nothing, hoping she would spew her shock and alarm and be done with it.
“Have you spoken to Judas? Did you put him up to this?”
“No,” I said, too quickly. I had an outstanding talent for committing deceit, but none for hiding it.