Read Online Iscariot: A Novel of Judas by Tosca Lee - Free Book Online
Authors: Tosca Lee
Tags: Fiction - Historical
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of their emperor, who calls himself the son of God? Where is our Maccabee to put him down and chase out Rome? Where is our Messiah to cleanse our Temple? Come, Elijah! Come, son of David!"
Judas Maccabee. I had been named in part for the warrior hero and reared on tales of his cleansing of the Temple. My skin prickled at his words.
"Stop!" I said. But he had already begun to gather an alarmed crowd. Soon he would incite a panic. Fear had already lodged like a bone in my throat--
for the Levites working in the Temple treasury. For the students in the porticoes, the pilgrims in the courts.
But then a terrible thought occurred to me: If a man was saying this here in Kerioth, what was being said in Jerusalem? What kind
63
of outrage would this act of Pilate provoke there, among the city's swollen numbers?
Tinderbox.
As I hurried back to my aunt's house, there was only one face before my mind: Susanna.
With swift goodbyes, I left my mother in the care of my brother and headed north, to Jerusalem.
The Holy City was in the throes of holiday chaos. Pilgrims camped on the hills as thick as the knots of a carpet, flooding the Kidron Valley all the way to Bethany. The smoke of their fires and colorful strew of their tents was everywhere from the hillside to the rooftops even of the synagogues. Only the Valley of Hinnom, where the city's garbage continuously burned, was devoid of pilgrims' tents.
But Jerusalem was in the throes of something else as well: rage in her streets, outcry over one more violation at the hands of Rome and her prefect, Pilate.
Entering the city, I joined the crowds flooding the streets, swarming in the direction of the Temple. I would gauge the outrage there firsthand, and then get home and collect Susanna, take her from the city if I must.
But to enter the Temple, I had first to immerse. The dust of travel was on my feet and I could not enter without immersing, especially on this day of all days. I made for the mikvot on the southern end of the Temple. The lines wound all the way down the street! I briefly considered the mikva at a nearby inn . . .
And then I stopped.
I had been in the same house with my dead aunt. I bore corpse uncleanness. Immersing would not cleanse me of that today.
64
I could not enter the Temple.
"Judas bar Simon!" A familiar voice rang out over the throng.
I twisted at the sound of my name and stared at Isaac. I will never forget the sight of his face. Shining. Strangely beatific.
"Have you come to join us? Come!" He reached across the chest of another man, to pull me toward him. I clasped his hand, pushed my way between two other men moving crossways against me.
"Tell me what happened!" I said.
"Pilate seized the Corban."
The Corban. The monies set aside for public works--I myself had paid out wages from the Corban to laborers paving streets or repairing gutters.
"Come with us!"
My first thought was, to where? And then I thought of Susanna. I had all but decided to forget the Temple, which I could not enter, and go directly home to her, make certain that my bride and unborn son were safe.
Still, I shouted after him, "Where?"
My fingers slipped free of his and the shouts around us drowned him out.
And then I realized that all around me a protest was forming.
"Isaac!" I shouted.
He was gone. The crowd was surging toward the northwest corner of the Temple, and I got caught up and carried along with it, trying all the while to pull free of that inexorable human current. I saw Isaac once more a moment later and then he was gone, like the head that bobs above the surface of a wave before going under for the last time. Then I was swept along, past the western wall of the Temple, toward the Antonia Fortress.
65
And there, on a platform built out from the fortress steps I saw the man himself. A figure anyone would know by sight alone.
Pilate.
He sat on a simple seat in the purple equestrian stripe of his rank. His hands were folded in his lap, his head tilted as
Judas Maccabee. I had been named in part for the warrior hero and reared on tales of his cleansing of the Temple. My skin prickled at his words.
"Stop!" I said. But he had already begun to gather an alarmed crowd. Soon he would incite a panic. Fear had already lodged like a bone in my throat--
for the Levites working in the Temple treasury. For the students in the porticoes, the pilgrims in the courts.
But then a terrible thought occurred to me: If a man was saying this here in Kerioth, what was being said in Jerusalem? What kind
63
of outrage would this act of Pilate provoke there, among the city's swollen numbers?
Tinderbox.
As I hurried back to my aunt's house, there was only one face before my mind: Susanna.
With swift goodbyes, I left my mother in the care of my brother and headed north, to Jerusalem.
The Holy City was in the throes of holiday chaos. Pilgrims camped on the hills as thick as the knots of a carpet, flooding the Kidron Valley all the way to Bethany. The smoke of their fires and colorful strew of their tents was everywhere from the hillside to the rooftops even of the synagogues. Only the Valley of Hinnom, where the city's garbage continuously burned, was devoid of pilgrims' tents.
But Jerusalem was in the throes of something else as well: rage in her streets, outcry over one more violation at the hands of Rome and her prefect, Pilate.
Entering the city, I joined the crowds flooding the streets, swarming in the direction of the Temple. I would gauge the outrage there firsthand, and then get home and collect Susanna, take her from the city if I must.
But to enter the Temple, I had first to immerse. The dust of travel was on my feet and I could not enter without immersing, especially on this day of all days. I made for the mikvot on the southern end of the Temple. The lines wound all the way down the street! I briefly considered the mikva at a nearby inn . . .
And then I stopped.
I had been in the same house with my dead aunt. I bore corpse uncleanness. Immersing would not cleanse me of that today.
64
I could not enter the Temple.
"Judas bar Simon!" A familiar voice rang out over the throng.
I twisted at the sound of my name and stared at Isaac. I will never forget the sight of his face. Shining. Strangely beatific.
"Have you come to join us? Come!" He reached across the chest of another man, to pull me toward him. I clasped his hand, pushed my way between two other men moving crossways against me.
"Tell me what happened!" I said.
"Pilate seized the Corban."
The Corban. The monies set aside for public works--I myself had paid out wages from the Corban to laborers paving streets or repairing gutters.
"Come with us!"
My first thought was, to where? And then I thought of Susanna. I had all but decided to forget the Temple, which I could not enter, and go directly home to her, make certain that my bride and unborn son were safe.
Still, I shouted after him, "Where?"
My fingers slipped free of his and the shouts around us drowned him out.
And then I realized that all around me a protest was forming.
"Isaac!" I shouted.
He was gone. The crowd was surging toward the northwest corner of the Temple, and I got caught up and carried along with it, trying all the while to pull free of that inexorable human current. I saw Isaac once more a moment later and then he was gone, like the head that bobs above the surface of a wave before going under for the last time. Then I was swept along, past the western wall of the Temple, toward the Antonia Fortress.
65
And there, on a platform built out from the fortress steps I saw the man himself. A figure anyone would know by sight alone.
Pilate.
He sat on a simple seat in the purple equestrian stripe of his rank. His hands were folded in his lap, his head tilted as
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