“Yes, the Tetrarchess is right, Centurion,” Antipas agreed complaisantly. “Let’s push on to Jerusalem today.” He ignored his wife’s caustic remark. “We’ll have tonight and all tomorrow to rest before the start of the Passover celebration.”
Beyond Jericho, where the Peraean road joined the road up from Galilee and one that came down along the western side of the Jordan from the region of Ephraim, the way began to fill with pilgrims going up to Israel’s capital for the annual great spring festival of the Passover. As the caravan neared the point where the road began its steep climb, Cornelius called a halt. While the Tetrarch and Herodias were having a brief respite from their saddles, he called in his legionaries and changed the pattern of their advance. Down through the Jordan valley they had been moving in column along the roadway with guards ahead of and behind the Tetrarch’s party and only now and then a few soldiers on the flanks.
But now Cornelius gave orders to Decius to divide the century into three groups, the largest of which would continue along the Jericho road, while the other two would move forward with the Tetrarch’s group, one on its right flank, the other on the left, and each several hundred yards from the road.
“I’m not expecting any trouble,” he explained, “but if there are any Zealots lying in wait for us, in all probability they’ll be up there in that defile where the road cuts through the rocks. You men out on the flanks will be able to beat them off; if they’re crouched beside the road, we’ll trap them between your columns and us.”
When the division of the century had been completed, the centurion had a final warning. “Stay abreast of us, and keep in contact. And now, let’s get moving. Men, keep your eyes open. These Zealots are bent on killing every Roman in Palestine. They’re clever, and they know every foot of ground in this region.”
The steep rise of the narrow Jericho road and the push of pilgrims trudging ahead slowed the progress of the caravan, and it was nearing sunset when once more Cornelius halted the column. “It’s been a hard climb, and the animals are laboring,” he explained to the Tetrarch. “A short rest will refresh us for the last few miles into Jerusalem. Soon we’ll be past the boulders and can move faster. And with danger of assault by robbers ended, we can pull in our flanking files. So we should be approaching Jerusalem by nightfall.”
But the centurion had spoken too quickly. They went hardly a mile farther and were moving slowly through the last narrow defile in the ascending road before it veered sharply around screening boulders to come on a level plateau extending to the vicinity of Bethany; the caravan was strung out in a long column and the advance guard had disappeared around the turn in the gorge-like roadway. In the instant that Herod and the Tetrarchess, with Cornelius and several of the escorting legionaries just ahead of or behind them, had advanced into the narrowest portion of the rock-walled canyon, they heard a sudden commotion above them. Looking up, they saw on each side of the pass, glaring down upon them and with spears poised, a group of grizzled, fierce-eyed insurgents.
“Halt, Roman dogs!” shouted a hulking, reddish-bearded fellow, as he drew back his spear menacingly. “Get down from your beast before I nail you to his belly like a thief to his cross! And you”—with his free hand he gestured toward the Tetrarch—“you traitor to Israel, you fawning puppet of evil Rome, stay where you are! You, too”—his angry black eyes were studying Herodias—“you adulterous sharer of your uncle’s bed, don’t you move!”
“Who are you? What do you want?” Cornelius demanded loudly, in the hope that his soldiers in the flanking columns would hear.
“You needn’t be screaming, soldier,” the burly fellow said calmly. “There’s nobody to help you. We have you surrounded. See?” He pointed to his men in the rocks on the other side of the road. “One wrong move and we’ll stick your carcasses full of spears. And you needn’t be hoping for help from those up ahead”—he motioned—“or down there.” He threw back his bearish great head and roared his laughter. “We have them cornered, too.” Then suddenly he was scowling again. “You dogs of Rome! Throw down your weapons! Quickly, before we forget ourselves and let our spears fly!”