Free Judas by Frederick Ramsay Page B

sheep and goats. Wines, oils, and dried fruit are shipped everywhere from this valley, through the port of Caesarea or on the backs of dusty camels and donkeys in caravans that crisscross the land.
    In the center of this rich land lies the Sea of Tiberias—the Sea of Galilee, its greatest source of income. Fish is a staple food for the surrounding countryside and, more than that, one third of all the salt fish consumed by the legions of Rome comes from Galilee. This prosperous corner of the world is, indeed, “the land of milk and honey” promised to our ancestors. Perhaps it is this abundance that creates a yearning to be free, perhaps not. But more than its fish, fruit, oil, or flocks, the export, for which the Galilee is most famous, is rebellion.
    Rebellion, I have discovered, does not always arise from political oppression or crushing poverty. It is just as likely to rise up in the hearts of prosperous and comfortable men who yearn to be free. The whole of our history is about such men, not conquest or overriding righteousness, but the endless pursuit of the Covenant, to live in the land God willed to us. In the Galilee the ideal burns like holy fire. Sometimes it seems no more than a flicker, sometimes a conflagration, but always there.
    The only thing needed to kindle it anew? The long expected messiah, the new David. I wondered if I sought him, might I find him.
    And where?

Chapter Fifteen
     
    I lingered with Nahum. He told me he followed the practices of the Essenes. I did not know what that meant and his explanation did not help. If you have no knowledge of the books of Moses and God’s prophets, variations in interpreting them mean little or nothing, not that ignorance has ever stopped anyone from trying. He began my education in the holy books my mother quoted but did not understand. If I proposed to ignite a fire, I needed to learn and learn all this, and quickly.
    After weeks of searching, it became obvious to me the men I sought were not in the hills around Sepphoris, but east and south in the prosperous towns rimming the Sea. Nothing remained in my mother’s hometown but bad memories. Nahum urged me to stay. “You have much to learn, Judas. Stay a while. This is your land and when you know it as I do, you will come to love it.”
    “Yes, I am sure you are right. But I must go. I thank you for your hospitality and your confidence. I wish you to have this.” I handed him a letter of credit, a small one, but for him it must have seemed like a fortune. He inspected it carefully. His jaw dropped.
    “It is too much. I cannot accept so much for so little. Even an innkeeper would not expect this.”
    “Take it for the future. Someday if I need you, you will have the means to respond.”
    I headed to Tiberias and, I hoped, one step nearer to my goal, one farther away from my nemesis.
    ***
     
    I moved about the country for another month. Tiberias reminded me of Caesarea, a place for the wealthy and their hangers-on to be seen. Herod Antipas made it his capital and imported people to live there. More pagan than Jewish, he filled its streets and houses by offering freedom to slaves in exchange for their pledge to stay.
    I made discreet inquiries, but no one would admit to knowing anybody. I spread some money around and learned I should seek out a certain Jesus Barabbas. But more money could not induce anyone to admit knowing him.
    Then one afternoon a voice whispered in my ear, a voice from the shadows, “Go east toward Bethsaida and look for a man.”
    “What sort of man?”
    “You will know him when you see him.”
    Not a very promising reply, but I had no alternative. I looked again but the shadows had no substance.
    ***
     
    I picked my way carefully among the smooth, black stones that line the sea shore. As I did so, I saw a lone fisherman hauling in his nets. At first, I guessed his awkwardness at the task resulted from his having to work alone. If I had been told the truth about how families dominate