Free Mary of Nazareth by Marek Halter

teeth. “I was telling the truth earlier, you know. Even if you hadn’t wanted to, I’d have gone with her.”
    Barabbas laughed and wagged a finger at him. “You’d have obeyed me, or I’d have tanned your hide.”
    â€œHey, don’t forget I’m the one who had the idea about how to save her father, not you! You’re not my leader anymore. We’re partners now.” His strange face lit up with pride, and for a moment it looked strangely beautiful. He added, cheekily, “And you’ll see, she won’t love you after this, she’ll love me!”
    And he strode off, his laugh echoing between the ruined walls of the baths. Out of the corner of her eye, Miriam noticed that Barabbas was blushing.
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    A T nightfall, a caravan, no different than all the others that circulated on the roads of Galilee on the days of the great markets in Capernaum, Tarichea, Jerusalem, or Caesarea, left Sepphoris.
    There were ten carts loaded with bales of wool, hemp, and sheepskins and sacks of grain, and drawn by beasts as poor in appearance as their owners. Each of the carts had a double bottom, in which Barabbas and his companions had concealed a fine collection of swords, knives, combat axes, and even a few Roman spears stolen from the storehouses.

CHAPTER 3
    S URROUNDED by a dozen similar boats, the small fishing boat swayed on the gentle swell of the Lake of Gennesaret. The red and blue sails had been taken down. Since morning, the fishermen had been casting their nets two leagues from the shore, just as on any other day. But today each boat was carrying four of Barabbas’s companions, ready for combat. For the moment, they were enjoying helping the fishermen.
    Huddled on the rough planks in the stern of the boat, Miriam watched impatiently as the sun slowly went down over Tarichea. There, beyond the horrible forest of crosses next to the fortress, her father was suffering, unaware that she was so close to him. Unaware that, when night came and if God Almighty allowed it, she would free him.
    Sitting behind her on the handrail, Barabbas sensed her apprehension. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “It won’t be long now,” he said when she looked up at him. “You only need to be patient a little while longer.”
    His face was drawn with exhaustion, but his voice was still gently teasing.
    Miriam would have liked to smile at him, touch his hand, tell him that she trusted him. But she could not do it. Her muscles were so taut, she had to make an effort to stop herself shaking. There was a lump in her throat, and she could hardly breathe. The previous night, overcome with anxiety, she had slept very little.
    As for Barabbas, he had had hardly any rest at all, and Miriam had been amazed by his skill and efficiency.
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    A FTER leaving Sepphoris, Barabbas and his band had walked all night, stopping only to let the donkeys and mules forage. By early morning, they were in the hills overlooking the shores of the Lake of Gennesaret. Tarichea was at their feet. The fortress, with its walls of hewn stones, its towers and crenellated ramparts, looked more impenetrable than ever.
    In spite of the distance, Miriam immediately made out the terrible field of crosses. Situated to the right of the fortress, it extended along the shore of the lake for almost a quarter of a league. There were hundreds of crosses, like some monstrous growth of vegetation.
    Indeed, nothing else grew there. There was nothing like the orchards and gardens surrounding the white walls of the town with its multitude of little alleys, which huddled cautiously on the other side of the fortress. Seen from above, the field of crosses was a long brown strip lined with a threatening black stockade, a blemish on the natural beauty of the lakeside.
    Miriam bit her lips. She would have liked to rush in and make sure that her father was not yet among