Matthew's Story: From Sinner to Saint, Page 2

  “Sing him your prayer, Levi,” his mother said.

  “Yes,” his father said. “And do it perfectly, every word. I have two prutahs here that will afford you a dessert of pears and honey from the vendors tomorrow.”

  “Oh, Alphaeus,” his mother said. “He should do it for its own sake.”

  “I will!” Levi said. “But I will enjoy the treat too.”

  He cleared his throat and chanted softly, “‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one! You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. And it shall be that if you earnestly obey My commandments which I command you today, to love the Lord your God and serve Him with all your heart and with all your soul, then I will give you the rain for your land in its season, the early rain and the latter rain, that you may gather in your grain, your new wine, and your oil. And I will send grass in your fields for your livestock, that you may eat and be filled.

  “‘Take heed to yourselves, lest your heart be deceived, and you turn aside and serve other gods and worship them, lest the Lord’s anger be aroused against you, and He shut up the heavens so that there be no rain, and the land yield no produce, and you perish quickly from the good land which the Lord is giving you.

  “‘Therefore you shall lay up these words of Mine in your heart and in your soul, and bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall teach them to your children, speaking of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up. And you shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates, that your days and the days of your children may be multiplied in the land of which the Lord swore to your fathers to give them, like the days of the heavens above the earth.’”

  “Excellent!” his father announced, proffering the coins.

  Levi helped him pull the table to the wall and move the chairs. He then laid out his parents’ and his own mats, not far from the baby’s. With the setting of the sun the air grew cold, and his father brought fresh charcoal for the brazier. That was Levi’s favorite way to sleep—a cool night with the air stealing in around the shutters on one side, the fire warming him on the other.

  TWO

  Herod’s Palace

  As darkness settled over Jerusalem, the king paced.

  “No word from the scouts, Ariel?”

  Herod’s aide shook his head. “I expect them momentarily. They were to report at nightfall.”

  “Well, night has fallen, hasn’t it? Send for Caiaphas and have him bring the scroll of the prophets.”

  “The entire . . .”

  “You know what portion I wish to hear! Now, with dispatch!”

  Ariel assigned a courier to fetch the chief priest. “Highness, he’ll be none too pleased to have to return so soon.”

  “Let him say that to my face,” Herod hissed. “I will deal with him as I plan to with these magi.” He cursed. “How hard can it be to find these men in Bethlehem?”

  “I cannot imagine.”

  “If these scouts have been slothful, I’ll . . .”

  “You may rest assured, Your Majesty, that they are among your finest armed guards.”

  “If they are not here in due time, they will be among my late armed guards.”

  Caiaphas arrived quiet and clearly in a bad mood, a cylinder tucked under his arm. The willowy cleric followed Ariel and the king to an inner room and opened the scroll on a limestone table. Without hesitating he pointed to the passage in question and intoned: “‘But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are not the least among the rulers of Judah; for out of you shall come a Ruler Who will shepherd My people Israel.’”

  “I know what you’re thinking, Rabbi. You’re thinking I should have been able to memorize that, or at the very least not forget it.”

  Caiaphas shrugged and rolled the scroll. “Will there be anything else?”

  “Yes, you can interpret it for me! And no sighing!”

  The chief priest shook his head. “I am at your service, sir, but this passage strikes me as quite literal.”

  “So these wise men have come to see the Messiah?”

  “Clearly they believe they have.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Nothing here indicates timing. The men spoke of following a star in the East. Studying the heavens is their pursuit, not mine, but have you seen any such star?”

  Herod shook his head. “So, they’re wrong? Dreaming? Think they’ve seen something?”

  “I cannot say. They could be right. I pray they are right. We have prayed for our Messiah for centuries.”

  Herod hesitated and glanced at Ariel. “Well, of course you have. We all have. How old would this child be?”

  “Based on what they said, somewhere between six months and a year old.”

  “But you’re saying this may not be the time?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose if they find a child and bring him to you, we’ll know.”

  “I will summon you immediately, Rabbi.”

  Caiaphas raised a brow. “Just here to serve, Excellency.”

  When he was gone, Herod limped out to the front portico and into the street, where he could look to the west and see where the scouts would come through the Citadel Gate near David’s Tower.

  “Sire,” Ariel said, quickly overtaking him, “I’d really rather you not expose yourself to the elements—or to your detractors.”

  Herod whirled to face him. “My detractors? They would be wise to not expose themselves to me!”

  “Please, sir! Step back inside. I will inform you when the scouts return.”

  “If they are not back within minutes, send out a garrison of soldiers to find them!”

  “Your Highness, the Romans will want nothing to do with this.”

  “I don’t care what they want! I pay for those soldiers!”

  “Here they come, sir.”

  “I will assign centurions to arrest the scouts and then to—”

  “Sir, the riders approach.”

  The scouts’ horses skittered to a stop before the king. “What news?” he said. “I demand to know where—”

  “No sign of them, my king,” the leader said.

  “How is that possible?” Herod fumed. “What took so long?”

  “We knew this was important, sir. We searched every home in the village.”

  “And what did the citizens say? Had the magi been there?”

  “Some thought they had seen foreigners, but there is no sign of them now.”

  “Did you say why you were looking for them?”

  “Yes, we said you wanted to worship the infant king. The citizenry were unaware of such a child, but intrigued.”

  “Excellent. And children?”

  “Sire?”

  “Babies between six months and a year! How many did you see?”

  “We did not realize we were to look for children, Your Highness,” he said, looking to the others. “But we saw several that age, certainly.”

  “How many?”

  “More than a dozen, perhaps. But we would not have seen them all.”

  “Get yourselves something to eat,” Herod said, “but stay at hand. I may have another task for you tonight. And you will need to be fully armed.”

  “As you wish.”

  Herod grabbed Ariel’s sleeve and dragged him back into the palace. “If it were entirely up to me I would send Roman soldiers to execute every child in Bethlehem and its surrounding districts.”

  “You’ll risk your relationship with Rome if you do that without authorization.”

  “They named me King of the Jews!”

  “But the execution of children, Sire . . .”

  “I have executed members of my own family, Ariel! I should ignore a usurper to my throne?”

  “Of course not. But you don’t need the complication of using Roman soldiers for such an odious task, especially without approval.”

  “Then
I’ll use my own men! Those scouts owe me. How many more do we need?”

  “What is your aim, sir?”

  “Need you ask? I am decreeing the deaths of every child in the Bethlehem district under the age of two!”

  “And how do you propose to effect this decree?”

  “By the sword this very night.”

  “You will need at least two teams of a half dozen men each.”

  “Two? Why?”

  “As soon as this purge begins, word will spread fast. Parents with infants will flee.”

  “Good thinking! Two teams it is. See to it immediately.”

  “Let me be certain I understand, Your Highness.”

  “I cannot be clearer, Ariel! They go house to house, executing every child under two. I have never countenanced any threat to my throne. I am not about to start now.”

  Bet Guvrin

  Levi was startled awake, but not by any noise he was aware of. Suddenly he found himself sitting up straight, alarmed that his mother was standing by the window, the shutter open a few inches. She was wrapped in a blanket.

  Levi’s father stood and tiptoed to her. “What is it, Mary?”

  “I heard something,” she whispered. “Levi, go back to sleep.”

  Levi lay back down, but of course he would not sleep until his parents returned to their mats.

  “Your imagination?” his father said.

  She shook her head. “Perhaps an animal, but it sounded like a scream.”

  “A jackal or a hyena,” he suggested. “Come back to bed. There are but a few hours before dawn.”

  Levi’s mother was quietly pressing the shutter closed when a scream pierced the night, and it was no animal. Levi bolted straight up again, and his mother whimpered, “Alphaeus! Someone’s in trouble.”

  “It sounds far away,” he said, just as the scream turned to shrieks and then wailing.

  “Someone has died,” she whispered.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know.”

  Now men’s voices, shouting, horses’ hooves. The clamor became so great that Mary reached for Chavivi, still sound asleep. Levi leapt to his feet, surprised his parents didn’t send him back to bed. He peeked around his father as Alphaeus opened the shutter. Torchlights lit the horizon in the distance, and from the noise it was clear that people were racing through the village.

  “Who is that?” Levi’s father muttered, peering out. “He’s riding a donkey!”

  “Hide your children!” the man cried. “Hide your children! Herod’s men are slaughtering them!”

  “Alphaeus!”

  “To the roof! Now! Go!”

  His mother rushed outside to the stairs.

  “I’ll stay with you, Father!”

  “No, Levi! Go with your mother now!”

  But as he stepped outside, six horsemen thundered up and one bounded directly from his steed to the middle of the stone staircase, blocking his mother’s path. “No!” she screamed.

  “How old are your children?” the leader demanded.

  Levi’s father emerged from the tiny house shouting, “There are no children here!” But he fell silent as he took in the scene. The man on the stairs was wrestling with Mary over Chavivi.

  “No! Alphaeus!”

  Levi froze as his father flew up the steps and knocked the armed man to the ground. Immediately the others slid from their mounts, pulling swords and knives. As Alphaeus dropped onto the man, he was pulled off by two others, one of whom wrapped an arm around his neck with a dagger at his throat.

  Levi’s mother rushed toward the roof, and as two gave chase, Levi grabbed the second from behind, only to be shaken off and thrown back down the steps. They quickly overtook his mother on the roof and one rushed back down, the now squalling baby in his arms. The other stood on the roof with a knife to Mary’s throat.

  Still she fought and thrashed. “If you mean to harm my baby, kill me too!”

  “What is happening?” Levi shouted, as the man took the baby around the side of the house. Chavivi suddenly stopped crying. The other men released his parents as the now limp and bloody baby was brought back and handed to Alphaeus.

  The horsemen remounted and galloped off as Levi dropped to his knees, breathless and silent. His father, howling like a wild animal, staggered back and fell to his seat, cradling the baby. Mary crept down the steps, trembling, eyes afire, jaw set. As she joined her husband, they both enveloped the tiny body, rocking, weeping.

  Levi had never heard such a haunting tone from his mother, repeating, “My baby, my life, why, why, why?”

  “Did they kill him?” Levi said, finally able to breathe.

  “Alphaeus, tend to Levi,” she managed, struggling to her feet and taking the lifeless child inside.

  “Father, what?”

  Alphaeus gathered the boy to himself. “I don’t know,” he said, rigid with rage. “But someone will pay.”

  Levi heard his mother crying and pulled away to head inside, but his father held him back.

  A neighbor approached, a farmer. “Not Chavivi, Alphaeus. Please no.”

  Levi’s father nodded. “I don’t understand.”

  “All the children under two,” the man said. “Herod is making sure he eliminates the Christ child, the Messiah.”

  “But why Cha-cha?”

  “The king does not know whom to target. Three others have already been lost in our village. Many more in Bethlehem. I’m so sorry, Alphaeus.”

  Levi’s father could only nod, pulling Levi close and leading him into the house. His mother had laid the baby on the table and set lamps around his body. When she noticed Levi she quickly covered Chavivi with a clean blanket. The blood-sopped one lay in a corner.

  She was ashen and looked smaller than Levi had ever thought of her. “Alphaeus,” she said softly, “they ran him through the heart.”

  “Herod’s men,” Alphaeus said, but she shushed him. “The king—”

  “I don’t care,” she said. “I don’t want to know. There is no why. I wish they had killed me.”

  “Don’t say that, Mother!”

  “Oh, Levi! I’m so sorry for you!”

  She turned and embraced him, and Levi had never felt so helpless.

  She held him tight as she began to wail, her forlorn sobs carrying in the night and joining with others in the distance. Levi sensed his father was fighting sobs as well, but the man soon surrendered to his own emotions. His bitter cries scared Levi as much as Herod’s soldiers had, and all he could do was join his parents in loudly mourning his baby brother.

  After nearly an hour, Levi said, “I want to see Chavivi.”

  “Not yet,” his mother managed. “Let me prepare him. Alphaeus, bring water.”

  Alphaeus wiped his face and reached for Levi and walked hand in hand with him to where they stored urns full from the village well. After he had delivered a large urn to Mary, he sat on the floor in a corner where he held Levi in his arms. Levi sat watching his mother, horrified, as she seemed in a trance. She closed the baby’s eyes and gently kissed all over his face. It was more than Levi could bear. He buried his face in his father’s chest and sobbed.

  After what seemed a very long time, during which his mother washed the body, wrung out the cloths, and washed him again and again, she spoke in a voice so soft he barely heard her. “Levi?”

  He sat up. “Yes?”

  “Would you like to help?”

  He stood quickly. “What can I do?”

  “From the chest, bring me nard and myrrh.”

  Glad for something to do, Levi quickly returned with the vials. His mother took them without a word and began anointing the body. Levi turned with a start when his father said, “I want to kill someone. I want to kill Herod.”

  “Alphaeus, please. The boy.”

  “I want to kill him too,” Levi blurted.

  Mary turned and faced her husband, and Levi thought she would fall. Alphaeus rose and hurried to her. “We must somehow get throug
h this,” she whispered, but she collapsed into moans so mournful that Levi had to sit on the floor and bury his head in his hands, covering his ears.

  For the next few hours before sunup, his mother alternated between weeping in her husband’s arms and making her way between the chest and the table, where she bound the baby’s hands and feet in linen strips, gently placed a clean cloth over his face, and finally wrapped his body.

  Levi could barely stand to look at the small white bundle on the table, so sickened had he been by what he had seen and how horrible he felt for his baby brother.

  The family sat weeping until the sun began to peek through the shutters. “We must bury him before noon,” Levi’s mother said.

  Alphaeus nodded. “We will not be alone. I shudder to think how many others there will be.”

  “And then you must get started toward Jerusalem.”

  “Oh, Mary, I wouldn’t even consider it.”

  “No, you must, Alphaeus! We can’t afford for you to forfeit the payment.”

  “I’ll find someone else to go for me. Someone surely will have pity on us.”

  THREE

  The horror made sleep impossible for Levi, not that he was even aware of fatigue. Fear, confusion, and a terrible rage roiled within him. It broke his heart to see his mother kneeling before the tiny wrapped bundle on the table, her shoulders heaving.

  Levi’s father whispered, “Son, we will take Chavivi to the roof where our neighbors and relatives will come to pay their respects. I want you to stay close by your mother’s side, as I have important duties I must attend to.”

  “Doesn’t the Torah say you are to do no work for the first thirty days of mourning?”

  “I am allowed to do what is necessary. People must be informed and invited. And I must hire flautists and mourners and arrange for someone else to make the trek to Jerusalem today.”

  By dawn, Levi’s parents had changed into mourning garments. His father neither washed nor shaved and wore old, dirty, tattered clothes Levi had seen him in only when he last patched the roof. He also wore a loincloth of camel’s hair Levi recognized from his readings as a sign of sorrow.