“What about the guards?” I asked.
“There shouldn’t be any tonight. According to Matthew’s account, the Jewish authorities didn’t go to Pilate and request a guard until the following day.”
That was comforting, though we’d still have to face them on Sunday.
“Do you think the legionnaires took their assignment seriously?” I asked.
Despite their rigorous discipline, I felt sure that the Romans would consider their mission a pointless waste of time.
Lavon considered my question but didn’t immediately reply.
“It could lessen their vigilance,” I added.
“Maybe,” he finally answered. “Most people assume the sentries were Romans, but Matthew’s wording is enigmatic. Pilate said ‘you have a guard’ or something to that effect. Did that mean, ‘I’m giving you a Roman guard,’ or ‘you have your own Temple police, use them.’ I’ve heard good arguments both ways.”
“What do you think?”
“Temple police,” he said without hesitation. “Do you really believe that the legionnaires we’ve encountered would take a bribe to confess to what amounted to a capital offense?”
“Not a chance,” I replied. “I’m sure they’d take bribes, but not for that. The risk versus reward wouldn’t stack up.”
“That’s how I see it,” Lavon added. “Besides, the Gospels say that the guards gave their initial statements to the high priests. Roman soldiers would have reported through their own command structure. In that case, Pilate, or at least Volusus, would have heard about it before the Jewish authorities did.”
“Then why ask for Pilate’s permission at all? Since they had the Temple police at their disposal, why not just send them out?”
“I’m sure that was forbidden. I’d imagine the Romans were pretty touchy about letting any sort of organized armed force roam about outside. That may have been why only one of the goons chasing us today wore a uniform.”
This made perfect sense, although one thing still bothered me: “Don’t the Gospels also say that the priests promised to take care of soldiers in case they got into trouble with the governor?”
“Yes, they do.”
“In that case, if they were just Temple police, why would Pilate care?”
He smiled. “Now you know why we have so many arguments about it.”
Chapter 60
We continued onward, though we gave the Damascus Gate a wide berth. While we assumed that the bodies of the two prisoners executed with Jesus had been removed, none of us wanted to take the chance that we could accidentally witness that horrific spectacle again, in the event they had not.
After we had traveled another half mile, Sharon directed us down a rocky knoll and into a warren of narrow trails. The topography matched her previous description: the surrounding hills were pockmarked with small caverns, a number of which had been crafted into burial sites.
Behind what appeared to be the tallest ridge, we discovered Bryson studying one particular chamber, whose entrance was covered by a thick 4x8 foot slab of brilliant white polished marble.
“You decided to come after all,” he said cheerfully, as if we had all simply gone for a walk in the park.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Lavon.
I tried to read the Professor’s expression, but for once my instincts failed me. Did he know he had us by the short and curlies, or had he simply assumed that our curiosity would get the better of us?
With no way to tell for sure, I turned my attention back to the marble block, which fit snugly into an elaborate framework that skilled masons had carved out of the surrounding limestone. An inscription, in what I guessed to be Aramaic, ran across the top.
Lavon questioned Naomi, but she just stared at the ground, embarrassed and disappointed that she could provide no further assistance.
Her duties at the palace had not required that she know how to read.
“We’ll fix that,” Lavon muttered, to no one in particular.
He spoke to her in a soothing tone, in Greek. As he did, Bryson turned to Sharon and asked if she could confirm that he had picked the correct site.
To no one else’s surprise, he had not.
Sharon led us back and forth along the trails as she studied each tomb. Finally, she stopped, glanced around in all directions once more, and motioned with her right hand.
“It’s this one,” she announced.
Bryson observed her skeptically. Her chosen location was both smaller and considerably less elaborate than other tombs in the area, though the surrounding ground did display signs of recent foot traffic.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Wasn’t it nearly dark when you went inside?”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she scrambled up the hill behind us to get her bearings on the palace towers. Then she veered off to her left and disappeared behind a ridge.
A few minutes later, she emerged along another trail, slowly moving forward and concentrating on her surroundings with each step.
“I’m certain: this is the way I came. Besides, it was bright enough when they dragged me out.”
“Absolutely, positively sure? We only have one chance to get this right.”
I detected a faint whiff of condescension in the Professor’s voice. Had he realized that in the body count standings, he remained the only member of our enterprise without a notch in the win column, he might have treated her with a little more respect.
She brushed aside the provocation, giving him instead the classic “I’m positive you idiot” look that women express so well. I should know; I’ve seen it often enough.
Bryson had the good sense not to press further. He studied the terrain for another brief moment, then walked over to a spot about fifteen yards away and laid the camera on a flat chunk of limestone.
He shoveled a handful of dirt underneath to correct the elevation and patted it down to ensure that the gadget would not slip.
“What is he doing?” asked Naomi. “What is that thing in his hand?”
Lavon glanced at me and I shook my head. Neither of us wanted to have that particular discussion at the moment.
“I’ll tell you later,” he said.
Naomi didn’t like this, but she chose not to argue.
Meanwhile, Bryson had nearly completed his preparations. He set the timer and pressed ‘record.’ Then, he folded the screen back onto the main body of the camera and proceeded to conceal his handiwork with stones.
“Did you remove the lens cap?” I asked when he ambled back over to us.
Bryson scowled at my feeble attempt at humor but did not comment otherwise. We both knew that the latest models had automated this process.
***
Had I kept my wits about me, I would have gone back to the camera and smashed it to pieces with a rock, then and there. Now that we were all together, nothing prevented us from making a beeline for the coast, dragging the Professor with us if he wouldn’t go voluntarily.
But except for a bag of raisins we had found on one of Herod’s dead guards, none of us had eaten since early that morning, and years had passed since I had to think clearly under such conditions in the field.
By this time, only a brief interval of daylight remained; so we all just stood back and soaked in the panorama until it became too dark to see clearly.
All but Naomi, that is. Try as she might, she could not comprehend why foreigners from a distant land would find a collection of Jewish tombs so fascinating, especially given our ongoing peril.
She tugged at Lavon. “Why are we here?” she asked.
“It’s not important,” he mumbled.
Naomi, though, proved unwilling to be put off a second time. She gestured in Bryson’s direction.
“He thinks this place is important; so do the others. You think it’s important. I can see it in your eyes. Tell me what is happening. Who is buried here?”
“I’ll show you in two days,” he replied.