Free Mary of Nazareth by Marek Halter Page B

we wouldn’t know how to use them!”
    Barabbas scoffed at their pessimism. “You’re not thinking any farther than your snotty noses. We don’t have boats. But on the shores of the lake, there are fishermen with all the boats we need. We have grain, wool, skins, and even a few fine silver objects. Enough to persuade them to help us.”

    B Y nightfall, the deal was done. The fishermen from the villages near Tarichea hated living so close to the fortress and its field of crosses. The reputation of Barabbas’s band and the goods taken off the carts had done the rest.
    That night, the houses on the shores of the lake had stayed open. The next day, while Obadiah and his comrades again lurked near the fortress, Barabbas had finalized his strategy, in agreement with the fishermen.
    As for Miriam, she had endured hours of nightmares before Obadiah had drawn her from her restless sleep two hours after sunrise.
    â€œI’ve seen your father. Don’t worry: He was still walking. Not all the others were. They put fifteen men up on the cross in one go. He was one of them.”
    A little while later, he spoke to Barabbas. “The old mercenary’s become my friend. He let me look as much as I wanted. I spotted Joachim right away because of his bald head and carpenter’s tunic. I kept my eyes on him all the time. I know exactly where he is. I’d find him even in the dead of night.”
    Now they were waiting for darkness, their exhaustion forgotten amid the tension. Before leaving the shore, Barabbas had carefully gone over his plan and had made sure that they all knew what they had to do. Anxious as she was, Miriam had no doubt about their determination.
    The sun was almost touching the hills above Tarichea. Standing out in the fading light, the fortress was a twisted mass of black. One by one, the green meadows and orchards turned gray. A strange, dull, bluish light hung in the still air, like a cloud. Soon, the field of crosses itself would disappear. From Tarichea came noises that echoed across the surface of the lake, and the last reflections of the dying sun scattered in a thousand gleams of light.
    Miriam dug her nails into her palms, thinking so hard about the despair her father must be feeling that it seemed to her she could see him, praying to Yahweh with his usual gentleness. After the burning heat of the day, the cold of the coming night engulfed her.
    Helped by Barabbas, the fisherman who was sailing their boat folded his net at the foot of the mast. Then he pointed to the shore. “As soon as the sun touches the crest of the hills, the wind will rise,” he said. “It’ll be easier to maneuver then.”
    Barabbas nodded. “There’ll be a little moonlight. Just what we need.”
    While the fisherman pulled on a rope to raise the sail, Barabbas came back and sat down next to Miriam.
    â€œTake this,” he said gently. “You may need it.” In his open palm was a small dagger with a red leather handle and a very thin blade. Miriam stared at it in astonishment.
    â€œTake it,” Barabbas insisted. “Use it if you have you. Don’t hesitate. I want to free your father, but I also want to bring you back safe and sound.”
    He winked at her, then immediately turned away to help the fisherman with the raising of the sail.
    All around them, on the other boats, the same silent activity was taking place. One by one, with solemn slowness, the triangular sails rose, glistening in the last light of day.
    The sun set over the already dark forest, turning the surface of the lake an oily bloodred so dazzling that they had to shield their eyes.
    As the fisherman had predicted, wind stirred the sail. He grabbed the helm and gave it a sudden push. The sail tipped and swelled, as if it had been punched. The boat creaked, and the stem cut through the water. Now the other boats turned. One after another, the sails flapped, the masts and ribs squeaked,