“Do as he says, men,” Cornelius commanded, dropping his sword. “But what do you want?” he asked the highwaymen’s leader again. He had decided that the safest course would be to pretend that he knew nothing of the rebel group, that ruthless party of guerrilla-fighting revolutionaries known as Zealots who had sworn not to rest until every imperialist Roman had been vanquished from their nation’s soil. “We have brought little money,” he said casually. “We aren’t Jews, you know; we aren’t going up to Jerusalem to purchase animals for the Passover sacrifices.”
The centurion’s thrust at the Israelites seemed to incense the fellow. “No, you mongrel of a Roman,” he roared, “nor would your sacrifice be acceptable to Israel’s God were you of a mind to offer it! Now get down, all you Romans! We’re taking your horses. But you and your woman, Herod, stay where you are. We’re taking you with us for ransom, and if the money isn’t quickly forthcoming to redeem you”—he tugged at his flaring dirt-caked beard and once again laughed uproariously—“we’ll skin you and one dark night pin your worthless hides to the door of old Herod’s Palace.” But quickly his demeanor changed again. He turned to glare at his comrades. “Get down there and pick up their weapons,” he commanded, “and mount the horses. We’ve got to be getting back into the hills. And you, Bildad and Achbor, I’ll hold you accountable for the Tetrarch. Dysmas and Cush, you take charge of the woman.” His sneering countenance softened into an evil grinning. “And see that no harm comes to her. I may wish myself to examine her seductive charms.”
Antipas sat staring stonily ahead, his countenance a frozen mask of fear. But anger added a flush to the cheeks of the frightened Tetrarchess. She did not venture, however, to challenge the man’s insulting remark.
The revolutionaries scampered like sure-footed mountain goats down from the rocks and quickly assembled the swords that Cornelius’ soldiers had thrown to the ground. The leader, who had stayed in his position atop an overjutting boulder, watched eagle-eyed along with several of his band who had continued to stand guard. “Issachar, you and Nadab see to the weapons those frightened dogs have thrown down,” he called. “See that not one remains to them when we’re gone. Now, Achbor and you, Bildad, get started with the Tetrarch, and let the woman follow. Men, mount the horses”—he paused an instant to watch one of his men who was having trouble getting into the saddle—“all you who know how to ride a horse ... and Coz, you don’t, I see.”
“But you can’t get away into the rocks with these horses. You have our swords; why don’t you leave us the horses...?”
“And let you fly into Jerusalem and have old Pilate’s soldiers combing through the hills for us? Oh, no, Roman dog, we aren’t fools. You’ll stand in your tracks until we’re gone, or we’ll come charging back and slit your throats and leave you here for the vultures to clean your bones.” He suddenly whirled about, for from behind him came the sound of men running through the rocks back from the road.
“Romans! Romans!” Cornelius heard someone shouting in Aramaic. “Fly! Roman soldiers!” In the next instant a bearded, coarse fellow burst into view above the deep-cut trail. “We can’t stand against them, Bar Abbas; there are too many of them!” he shouted. “We’d better get across the road and into those rocks!” He looked down and spied his companions and their captured party. “The Romans!” he yelled. “Fly men! There are too many for us to fight them!”
“Fly!” yelled the gang’s leader. “Go out through that ravine!” He pointed. “Get yourselves lost in the rocks, and hurry!” He turned to the man who had just rushed up to him. “How many did there appear to be, Hamor?”
“Many. I could not count them. We speared several before they discovered us....”
“Fools! If you’d held your peace and stayed under cover, they wouldn’t have known you were there. Now you’ve caused us to be flushed out. By the beard of the High Priest, Hamor, haven’t I warned you...?”