“Miriam, I am a warrior and a musician, not a prostitute, and I will not give anybody any excuse to call me that way.”
“Still, be careful.”
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“I will. I promise you. Now, can I hold your baby a bit?”
“Of course! He has finished sucking milk now.”
Miriam gently handed the baby to Nauca, who tenderly cradled him in her arms and kissed his forehead. Her apparent joy made Miriam remark on it.
“You look so happy with a baby in your arms. Maybe you should marry and start a family.”
Nauca sighed softly.
“If and when I get the time.”
07:22 (Jerusalem Time)
Sunday, October 27, 2 C.E.
(4th day of Cheshvan, year 3763 of the Hebrew calendar)
Bethlehem, Galilee
Nauca effortlessly picked up five year-old Josua and sat him across her horse’s back, just forward of the saddle. Miriam was already in the large saddle, with little Yeshua in a basket held in her lap, while seven year-old Yaaqov sat behind the saddle, holding on to Miriam by her waist. Yosef, bearing his meager collection of tools on his back, was waiting a few paces in front of the horse. Nauca, in Sarmatian attire and with all her weapons on her, grabbed the bridle and spoke to her horse in Sarmatian.
“Forward,
Pegasus!”
Yosef and his family exchanged last goodbyes with their neighbors and friends, then got on their way, with Nauca in the lead and still holding her horse’s bridle. Heading East, they adopted a slow but steady pace, with the two young boys squealing in pleasure at first as they experienced a horse ride for the first time. The temperature was just right, with a small breeze that helped cool the effect of the rising Sun.
The trip was to be a relatively short one, Nazareth being only eleven kilometers in a straight line from Bethlehem. There were however no roads or trails in the area and the hilly countryside made the trip a four-hour affair over rough, rocky ground. Yosef was secretly relieved to have the armed Sarmatian with his family: thieves were not rare in the hills of Galilee, waiting for the lone or defenseless traveler or, even better, a merchant laden with goods. They fortunately didn’t meet any band of thieves. What they met instead had the potential to be much worse. Three kilometers short of 206
Nazareth, in a small, narrow valley, they came face to face with a Roman mounted patrol of nine soldiers heading North, probably towards the garrison town of Sepphoris. Yosef tensed up immediately at their sight: Roman soldiers did pretty much as they pleased in what was for them occupied territory. Some were relatively decent and honest, while others rarely missed a chance to supplement their meager pay. Roman soldiers actually had the authority to requisition goods or the services of passing Jews as they saw fit.
Those foolish enough to protest often ended up with a good beating or worst. The decurion leading the eight mounted legionnaires concentrated his attention on Nauca and her weapons as he approached at a trot, his men behind him.
Nancy Laplante feverishly reviewed her options as the Romans approached.
Having been a Roman centurion herself in a previous incarnation, she was well aware of the ways of the Roman Army and knew that the Pax Romana benefited only the Romans. She however could not afford to kill or wound seriously any of these soldiers, even though she could probably do just that easily. Attacking or resisting Roman soldiers here and now would bring big trouble to Yosef and Miriam, something that would turn her mission, and history, into a mess. Furthermore, those soldiers had or were going to have families, who would in turn have descendants that would multiply along the centuries. The untimely death of any of those Romans could upset the genealogic tree, with unforeseeable consequences. For Nancy, this was one case where she would have to be ready to die without a fight if that was what it took to ensure the safety of Yosef and Miriam. They were now at the mercy of the decurion now approaching them.
The Roman stopped his horse close enough from Nauca to be able to touch her.
Looking quickly at Miriam and the children on the horse, then at Yosef, he returned his attention to Nauca and spoke in Koine, a sort of pidgin-Greek that was the Lingua Franca of the Roman Empire.
“Who are you? What are you doing with all these weapons?”
Keeping a friendly attitude, Nauca bowed her head once and replied, also using Koine.
“My name is Nauca and I come from Ephesus, where I was employed as a mercenary by the local governor. I was on my way to Jerusalem when I met this family.
The mother has just given birth and I offered her the use of my horse until she can be in Nazareth.”
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“A woman mercenary?” Said the decurion in a disbelieving tone. One of his men cut in with what he thought of as a joke.
“Maybe she’s one of those fabled Greek Amazons, Decurion.”
The soldier’s remark made his leader stare hard at Nauca.
“An Amazon? I thought that they came from the plains North of the Regnum Bospori8. Are you Greek, woman?”
“No, I am a Sarmatian.”
The decurion reacted as if receiving an electric discharge.
“A Sarmatian? Then you are an Amazon, by Jupiter!”
The decurion grinned as his men looked at each other in surprise.
“Centurion Markus must be told about this. So, what is an Amazon doing in a hole like Galilee? Hunting for men?”
Nauca kept a straight face as the Romans burst out in laughter, answering calmly the decurion when he stopped laughing.
“We have enough true men in Sarmatia, Roman. The truth is that I met a group of Jewish merchants while in Ephesus. They taught me their religion and I decided to travel to the temple of Jerusalem. I am on a spiritual quest.”
The decurion nearly fell off his horse from laughing on hearing this, while his men were bent over and holding their sides.
“A…a Jewish Amazon. That’s rich! Go your way and may you find your god, woman.”
Still laughing, the Romans then left. Yosef, who did not speak Koine, looked with utter confusion at Nauca.
“By God, what did you say to make them laugh so hard?”
“I simply told them who I am and that I was on my way to the temple of Jerusalem. They found the notion of me being a Jew quite funny.”
“Well, you are an oddity around here, Nauca.” Said Miriam, smiling from the top of the horse. Nauca shook her head, still trying to slow down her heartbeat after this close call.
“If it can amuse the Romans and let us avoid trouble, then I don’t mind.”
8 Regnum Bospori: Roman name for the Crimean Peninsula, on the North shore of the Black Sea.
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They reached Nazareth safely an hour later and were greeted there by a rather lukewarm crowd of curious villagers. While Nauca drew much curiosity, mixed with a good dose of suspicion tainted with xenophobia, Miriam and Yosef got what amounted to a polite welcome at best, except from Miriam’s parents. The old couple insisted on holding little Yeshua and covering him with kisses while Nauca helped Miriam and the two boys down from her horse. Nauca slowly looked around her, letting the cameras in her headband film the villagers and the houses of Nazareth. Miriam’s father soon came to her, bowing politely to her.
“I thank you for providing a ride to my daughter, stranger. You are welcomed to the hospitality of my house.”
“I am honored, old man, but I would like to resume my trip to Jerusalem as soon as possible. I will help your daughter get her things inside her house, then I will leave.”
“As you wish, woman.”
Yoackim then left her and returned to Miriam and her baby. It took only a few minutes for Nauca to unload Miriam’s things and bring them to the small, two-room house that would be her family’s home. While standing inside, she mentally ordered the miniature computer implanted in her head to register the spatial coordinates of the house, so that she could easily jump spacetime to it if need be in the future. She hugged Miriam, Yosef and their children one last time, with Miriam giving her a hopeful smile.
“You will visit us again, will you?”
“Maybe, but it could take a while. May God bring lots of happiness to you and your family. Shelama, Miriam.”
“Shelama,
Nauca.”
Getting on her horse, Nancy had a last look at the baby in Miriam’s arms, then spurred her mount to a gallop, leaving Nazareth in a cloud of dust. She had over 140 kilometers to cover on the rocky and dusty trail passing for a road here before getting to Jericho and then Jerusalem.
15:41 (Jerusalem Time)
Tuesday, October 29, 2 C.E.
(6th day of Cheshvan, year 3763 of the Hebrew calendar)
Outskirts of Jericho, east of Jerusalem
Kingdom of Judea and Samaria
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Nancy stood immobile for a long moment on her horse, looking at the small village of Jericho ahead of her. Powerful emotions were running through her right now: Jericho had been twice her place of birth in history. The first time had been over 7,000
years ago, when her newly created spirit had inhabited for the first time a human fetus, that of a girl to be named Nataï. The second time had been thirteen years before the time she was actually in. Right now, a teenage girl named Magdala was living in Jericho and would marry a shoemaker in two years. Nancy could sense vaguely the mind of Magdala in the distance and see what she saw, if she concentrated on it. If Nancy got much closer to Jericho, Magdala would probably be able to sense her too. Jericho was on the road to Jerusalem, if one could call the trail passing through it a road, so Nancy would have to go through it, probably more than once during her mission. First, though, she had a place to visit. Spurring her mount, Nancy guided it to a vast mound of sand and dust just to the North of the village and close to the source that was the main water point for the people of Jericho. Her robotic horse easily went up the steep slope of the mound, helped by its anti-gravity field set on low power. Nancy finally stopped her horse at a precise spot on the mound and dismounted. Kneeling in the sand, she bowed low and touched the dirt with her forehead. She was now on top of what was left of her first house ever on Earth. After a good minute bent over, she straightened up and looked towards the cloud-covered sky.
“Thank you for all my lives, Great One. I will serve you till death.”
Something she was hoping for but didn’t expect then happened: a voice boomed inside her head.
“YOU WILL BE ABLE TO SERVE ME EVEN AFTER YOUR DEATH, NATAÏ.
THIS WILL BE YOUR LAST INCARNATION. AFTER THAT, YOU WILL BE PURE
SPIRIT, LIKE ABRAM.”
Nancy nearly broke in tears at the mention of her ancient husband, who was now what most people would call her guardian angel. Abram, better known historically as Abraham, had been the one who had appeared to her in Colditz Castle in 1941 and had healed the horrible wounds from the tortures the Gestapo had inflicted on her. That was also when she had gained her present powers.
“I understand, Great One. Do you have instructions for me?”
“KEEP PROMOTING YOUR WORDS AND MAKE THIS WORLD A BETTER
PLACE. KNOW THAT MEN FROM THE FUTURE WERE AT WORK CONCERNING
YESHUA. THEY WILL NOT COME BACK: I DEALT WITH THEM.”
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A stream of images then flooded her mind for an instant. When it ended, Nancy knew everything she had to know about the origins of Yeshua and what had made possible his birth. That knowledge made her both angry and overwhelmed. Angry because history had again been manipulated by people who had ignored common sense, even though they had been well intentioned. Overwhelmed because of her involuntary but crucial role in this. However, she couldn’t change one thing about it: a time causality loop of monstrous proportion was at work here.
“What shall I do about Yeshua, Great One?”
“NOTHING! HIS FATE IS ALREADY WRITTEN. GO IN PEACE, NATAÏ.”
Her mind still echoing with the mighty voice of The One, Nancy stayed on her knees and meditated. She opened her eyes a long time afterwards, with her mind at ease and focused on what lay ahead. Getting back on her feet, she jumped in the saddle and guided Pegasus towards Jericho, intent on taking the trail towards Jerusalem. She was half way through the village when what felt like a hallucination struck her. An image of herself riding her horse through Jericho was in her mind. Looking to her left, she saw a teenage girl dressed in a rough tunic who stood in a doorway, staring at her. Activating her headband cameras, Nancy filmed her, realizing that the young Jewish girl was Magdala, her incarnation in this time period. She then urged Pegasus to a gallop and put quickly some distance between her and the girl: they were not meant to meet.
Pushing her mount at a constant speed that would have killed a real horse, Nancy arrived near Jerusalem one hour later. Slowing down her horse to a trot in order not to attract too much attention, she looked around at the scenery, filming as she went.
The Mount of Olives dominated her to her right, with Mount Scopus behind it. To her left lay the Hill of Bad Counsel, while the Valley of Kidron cut across her path ahead.
Beyond the Valley of Kidron lay the city of Jerusalem, totally unlike what she was accustomed to in 2012. Surrounded by defensive walls, the city was dominated by the formidable mass of the Temple of Herod the Great in its Northeast corner. The palace of King Herod, now occupied by his son Archelaus, was visible in the west end of Jerusalem, in the Upper City. Much less prominent than the two previous buildings but nonetheless the real center of power in Jerusalem, the Antonia fortress sat on the northern edge of the city, adjacent to the Temple. Nancy was much more wary of the Roman soldiers occupying that fortress than of the Jewish authorities of Jerusalem: Roman rule was both ruthless and selfish and Roman soldiers did pretty well as they 211
pleased here. Her cover as a part-time traveling musician would undoubtedly put her in contact with some Romans in Jerusalem, probably high-placed ones too. Those Romans could in turn ask or expect services that Nancy was not prepared to provide to them. How they would react to her refusals was still an unknown to Nancy. Before she could establish her cover occupation, though, she needed to buy a vacant house. That was not going to be easy in such a crowded city.
Scanning visually the hills around her, Nancy saw only a few dozens dispersed huts and modest houses, all apparently occupied. Resigning herself to a long search, Nancy guided her horse towards the Gate of Sion, on the southern edge of Jerusalem.
The travelers, merchants and pilgrims going to or coming from Jerusalem and lining the trail she was on all stared at her as she passed them, with many exchanging whispered comments between themselves. That did not surprise Nancy, as she was the only woman in sight traveling without a male companion. Her weapons were also undoubtedly attracting much attention. Ignoring the stares and the comments, she made her way along the southern walls of the city, finally stopping besides two Jewish soldiers guarding the Gate of Sion, which led into the upper city. The two men, who were each lightly equipped with a bronze conical helmet, a short sword and a javelin, examined her with obvious curiosity as Nancy spoke to the nearest guard.
“Could you tell me where I could find a respectable inn in the upper city, good man?”
The soldier smiled to her while scratching his beard.
“Well, respectable and inn are normally two words that don’t go together, but an acceptable place would be the inn of Iram the Syrian, near the palace of the Asmoneans. Enter the upper city, then follow the main street North until close to the Jaffa Gate. You will then see the palace of the Asmoneans to your right and Iram’s inn to your left.”
Searching into her belt purse for a moment, Nancy threw a large copper coin to the guard, who quickly caught it.
“Thanks for the information. Shelama!”
“Shelama,
woman!”
Going through the large gate, Nancy followed the so-called main street, roughly paved and less than four meter-wide. She had to go slowly, the street being crowded with pedestrians and street vendors peddling their wares. Most of the houses and buildings 212
lining the street were two or three story-high and were made of either roughly cut stones or of clay bricks. While keeping an eye for potential trouble, like drunken soldiers looking for women, or chamber pots being carelessly emptied from an upper story window, Nancy carefully filmed the scenery around her with the cameras hidden in her headband. Jan Bella was going to be ecstatic about those recordings of life in an ancient city. If Iram’s inn was anything like she expected it to be, then the chief historian of the Time Patrol was going to get some eye-opening footage.
She found the inn easily enough, as it bordered a wide square with an old palace to its right and a city gate across the open space. The inn was in the form of an empty rectangle, with a large gate that gave access to the central courtyard. That courtyard also served as a stable, with pitched roofs covering a series of open stalls and piles of hay. Stopping her mount in front of the open gate, Nancy jumped out of the saddle and led her horse inside by the bridle. A scruffy young man in a dirty tunic ran to her at once and bowed respectfully.
“Is the lady looking for a place in this modest inn?”
“I am! Do you have a private room left vacant?”
“Let me ask my master, lady.”
The young man ran inside, returning less than a minute later with a small bearded man with a thick waistline. The bearded man was much older, maybe in his early forties, and had a jovial face. His eyes were lively, looking around constantly and taking note of everything even as he bowed to Nancy.
“Shelama, lady! I am Iram, owner of this inn. I am pleased to tell you that I still have private rooms left. How long are you planning to stay?”
“I am not sure yet, probably a few days at a minimum: I am looking to find and buy a house in Jerusalem, if there are any available.”
Iram played with his beard with one hand while thinking.
“Hmm, that may not be easy to find: Jerusalem is quite crowded these days and any available housing is quickly grabbed. Your search may take weeks.”
“It will take the time it will take. Do you mind if I inspect your inn before making my mind about staying?”
“Not at all.” Replied Iram while bowing again. “You will find my inn to be clean and well kept. Follow me, please.”
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Leaving her horse in the care of the stable boy, Nancy followed Iram inside the main hall of the inn, a large room with a ceiling low enough to make Nancy cautious about where she went. A dozen rough wooden tables with benches filled the room, which was occupied at the time by nine customers, a female servant and what Nancy pegged as a very young prostitute. They all stared at once at the tall, weapons-laden newcomer.
Ignoring the stares, Nancy went up a creaky staircase behind Iram in order to inspect her room. What she saw would have both scandalized and horrified a typical tourist from the 34th century if he had found a hotel room like this one in a resort of the Global Council. For a seasoned traveler of the first century, the room was actually more than acceptable. While small, it was swept clean of dirt and dust and was furnished with a straw mattress on a wooden bed frame, a stool, a chamber pot and a small table supporting a clay washbasin and a water jar. The straw mattress was probably full of vermin but that was a minor annoyance. Nancy nodded in satisfaction and smiled to Iram.
“This looks very adequate. How much per night?”
“A half shekel per night, meals not included. May I ask what kind of money you have with you, Lady?”
“I have Greek drachmas and Roman sesterces and denariis. I will take this room and pay you one week in advance. Here are twenty drachmas: that should cover for the care of my horse too. I will now get my things and bring them up.”
The innkeeper made an embarrassed smile as Nancy got ready to leave the room.
“Pardon me for being impolite, lady, but may I ask what is your occupation? The people of this city are very prudish and may complain to the authorities if they suspect you of being a woman of small virtue. You are after all traveling alone, which is most unusual for a woman around here. Don’t get me wrong, though. I have an open mind.”
Nancy slowly faced Iram, her expression neutral.
“First, you may call me Nauca. I am a Sarmatian warrior. I spent years in Ephesus, were I educated myself. I came to Jerusalem to see for myself if the religion of the Jews is worth embracing. As for how I pay for my traveling, know that I play a few instruments well and can sing. I do not sell my body around, however.”
Iram repressed a frown with difficulty: female musicians and entertainers were widely regarded by Jews as being little more than prostitutes, even though they were in high demand with Romans and the Jews that had adopted Greek customs and way of life.
The public tongues would be going at it quickly with this woman. Iram was however in 214
need of customers, especially ones who paid in coins, like her, instead of through barter.
He decided to make the best of the situation and bowed to the tall woman.
“Point taken, Nauca of Sarmatia. May I give you a word of caution for your time in this city?”
“A person forewarned is worth two persons. Speak!”
“Be careful about the local authorities, especially the soldiers of Archelaus, the local ruler. Archelaus, who has been in power for six years now, is squeezing the people dry with taxes and levies raised on a whim. He, along with his soldiers, does about everything he wants, even if it violates the religious laws. Even the Romans are starting to find his rule excessive.”
“Now, that is worth noting. The Romans are masters at bleeding dry occupied lands for their profit. That Archelaus must be one mighty tyrant.”
“He is! He also isn’t above grabbing pretty women in the streets, to be used in his palace. If I were you, I would go around wearing a veil.”
“A judicious counsel, Iram. I will heed it. If you will now excuse me, I will bring my things to this room.”
“I will have Ephraim help you.” Replied the innkeeper. Both of them then went down to the main hall, then went out to Nauca’s horse, which was being given some hay by the stable boy.
“Ephraim! Help the woman bring her things up to her room.”
The stable boy nodded his head and untied the saddlebags and other bags thrown over the horse’s back. Nauca, despite his protests, took everything except her bedroll and her saddle and, apparently without effort, carried them inside. Ephraim, sweating under the weight of Nauca’s saddle and bedroll, followed her upstairs, putting down his load at the foot of her bed with a sigh of relief. He left after catching a silver drachma thrown by Nauca, who then quickly organized her things. By then, Nancy was quite hungry and, looking through the window of her room, saw from the position of the Sun that it was suppertime.
Still wearing her Sarmatian clothes and her weapons, she went down to the main hall of the inn and sat at an empty table in a corner from where she could watch the main entrance. There were still eight customers in the room, along with the teenage prostitute and the servant. She signaled the servant to approach and gave her a friendly smile.
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“What do you have available for supper?”
“Lentil soup and bread, lady. Would that be satisfactory?”
“It will do. Bring a cup of wine as well, please.”
The woman bowed and turned around, disappearing in the kitchen of the inn. Nancy then examined discreetly the other persons in the hall, who were themselves eyeing her discreetly. There was a middle-aged couple sitting at a table and eating with their two teenage sons. At a table near the entrance sat three men speaking animatedly in Phoenician between themselves. From their conversations, Nancy understood them to be merchants from the city of Tyre on a commercial trip to Jerusalem. The last customer was probably Greek and was quietly drinking wine at a corner table to the right of Nancy.
The young prostitute, a gaunt-looking girl of about twelve years old, sat on the floor of the hall, her back against the corner near the Greek man. As the servant came back with Nancy’s food and wine, the Jewish family of four got up and left for their room. As soon as they were out of sight, the Greek made a discreet sign to the prostitute, who smiled and got up to sit besides the man, who promptly passed an arm around her shoulders and started fondling her left breast. While the three Phoenicians paid no notice to this, the servant gave a black look at the young girl before disappearing again inside the kitchen. Nancy frowned at the scene: the young prostitute, who was probably an orphan reduced to selling herself in order to survive, would be in for a lot of trouble if someone complained about her. Returning her mind to her food, Nancy tasted cautiously the lentil soup and was agreeably surprised: it was as good as any lentil soup she had tasted in Lebanon in the 21st Century. The Greek man and the teenage prostitute got up and went upstairs a minute later, leaving Nancy alone with the Phoenicians and the servant. The girl was back down in the hall twenty minutes later, alone. She opened wide her eyes in surprise when Nancy signaled her to come to her table, but approached anyway, eyeing cautiously the sword, dagger and axe worn by Nancy.
“Come here and sit down, girl.” Said Nancy in a polite but firm tone. The teenager sat opposite her, still wondering what Nancy could want with her.
“Do you need my services, lady?” She asked timidly, making Nancy smile.
“No! I’m Nauca. What is your name?”
“Tabitha! Why?”
“Because I am curious about why such a young girl would risk prostituting herself in Jerusalem. Where is your family?”
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The girl’s face turned somber at that question.