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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear

The Betrayal (37 page)

BOOK: The Betrayal
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The wind picked up the instant they stepped outside the Dung Gate. Zarathan grimaced as another gust whipped his long robe into snapping folds and hurled a trough full of gravel at his eyes. He squinted in defense.
Three paces ahead of him, Cyrus and Barnabas led the horses down the steep trail, apparently unaffected by the gale. He didn't know where Kalay was, probably out in front of the horses or he'd be able to see her.
He started walking again.
In the moonlight, the slope seemed to be littered with massive misshapen beasts, though when he walked up to them they turned out to be limestone outcrops. He sidestepped another one, and plodded onward with his head down.
For over two hours, they'd been examining one squat, ugly tomb after another, and found nothing interesting.
The horses stopped ahead of him, and Cyrus said, “This path is too steep to take our horses down. We'll have to go the rest of the way on foot.”
Barnabas stared at the deep, moonlit gorge, then turned to look back at the Dung Gate, tracing out a straight line like the one shown on the papyrus. “Yes, you're right. We don't have the luxury of going around or we may lose our bearings. Let's find a rock or bush to tie our horses to.”
Zarathan walked forward and gazed down into the gorge. In the bottom, a narrow, winding path led south into the Kidron valley.
As Cyrus and Barnabas hunted for a good place to tie the horses, Zarathan stood in the background with his arms folded, moping.
Kalay's mouth quirked when she saw him. She walked over and said, “You look like you ate a horse apple.”
“As you well know, I haven't eaten anything for two days, let alone a horse apple.”
“Why don't you try to be helpful and find a rock to tie the horses to? It will make you forget your hunger, and,” she stressed the word, “would be good for your soul.”
Tartly, he replied, “How would you know? You're an unchaste, pagan demon-worshipper.”
Kalay propped her hands on her hips. “I've been demoted to just a demon-worshipper? I liked it better when I was a full demon.” She gave him an evil look, hitched up her dress, and tramped away after Cyrus and Barnabas.
Zarathan took a quick look around, and rapidly followed her. The last thing he wanted was to be left alone out here.
Just after they'd exited the Dung Gate, Barnabas had wanted to turn right, to follow the short leg of the map that branched off to the west of the long straight leg, but they'd seen two men standing in that direction, and decided it would be best to follow out the long leg instead.
“This will do,” Barnabas said.
Cyrus tied the horses' lead ropes to an eroded pinnacle of rock that stood as tall as Barnabas, then he turned and said, “What now?”
“We have to find a way down into the gorge.”
Barnabas started untying the book bags from the horse, and Cyrus said, “Brother, I suspect that any trails out here are going to be narrow and covered with slippery sand and gravel. Perhaps it is wiser to leave the books tied to the horse.”
Barnabas leaned heavily against the bag. “I am tired. Perhaps … just this once …”
Barnabas hesitantly turned away from the books, and picked his way along the edge of the precipice. After several moments, he said, “There. Is that a trail cut into the side of the gorge?”
Kalay said, “Looks like several trails to me. They seem to crisscross the cliff face. Let's find out if they're passable.”
She strode ahead, followed the trail over the rim, and disappeared into the gorge. In less than ten heartbeats the sound of cascading rocks erupted.
“Kalay!” Cyrus called, and hurried over the edge.
Barnabas and Zarathan rushed after Cyrus. When they'd scrambled down the first treacherous gravel-slick incline, the trail leveled out and they saw Kalay and Cyrus ten paces ahead. Kalay was pointing to something on the wall of the gorge.
Barnabas turned to the stone wall beside him. “Oh,” he said softly. “Look, Zarathan.”
Zarathan walked forward and his mouth dropped open. The entire cliff face was one tomb after another. Some were so old their entries were barely visible. It was as though over time the blocking stones had melded with the limestone cliff, becoming one. Other tombs appeared to be brand-new.
“That's why this trail is here,” Barnabas said. “The bottom of the gorge must have been used up first, and people had to start carving their family tombs higher and higher on the cliff.”
“How old are these?” Zarathan asked in awe.
“Such tombs only date to the first century, or perhaps a few decades earlier.”
“You mean, to around the time of our Lord?”
“Yes.” Barnabas smoothed his hand over an elaborate carving that adorned the facade of a small tomb. “This is the Ben Hinnom family tomb.”
“Hinnom? Like the valley?”
“I suspect it's the very same, or at least a relative.”
Zarathan edged forward to look at the inscription. The moonlight was strong enough that he could see the letters perfectly.
Kalay and Cyrus had started walking down the trail again, and Barnabas said, “Let's not fall behind, brother.”
The footing was so uneven that Zarathan often had to grab for one of Barnabas' flailing arms after he'd tripped.
“Forgive me, brother,” Barnabas said on the fourth stumble. “My eyes are particularly bad at night.”
“Just don't fall. It's a long way down.”
Barnabas peered over the edge, nodded, and braced a hand against the cliff to steady himself as he slowly continued down the trail.
It took another half hour to reach the bottom of the gorge. In that time, they must have passed hundreds of tombs. The smallest were barely the length of Zarathan's forearm and he suspected they had been carved for children.
They walked up beside Cyrus and Kalay, and Barnabas said, “Surely there's no one after us at this time of night. Why don't we split up and see what we find down here.”
“No,” Cyrus ordered sharply. He had his fingers around the hilt of his sword, as though ready at any instant to draw it. “We stay together. Pick a direction and we'll all follow you.”
Barnabas flapped his arms helplessly. “Very well, south.”
“Zarathan?” Cyrus said. “I'll lead. You bring up the rear.”
“Oh, for the sake of the Goddess Mother, let me do it!” Kalay said. “I'm much better with a knife than the bo—than Zarathan.”
It intrigued Zarathan that she'd stopped short of calling him a boy.
I should have saved her life sooner.
Cyrus paused, considering, then pulled a fine silver-handled knife from his belt and held it out to Zarathan, saying, “He'll be all right. Take this, brother.”
Zarathan backpedaled. “Didn't that belong to one of the dead sicarii?”
Cyrus stretched his hand out farther. “It doesn't matter who it belonged to, you may need it.”
Zarathan plucked it from Cyrus' palm with two fingers and gingerly tucked it into his belt. It looked very strange resting right beside his prayer rope.
Cyrus gave him a soldierly nod and turned around to head south. Barnabas followed behind him. As Kalay passed Zarathan, she gave him an incredulous look, grabbed a handful of her skirt, and held it up as she followed Barnabas down the winding path that led deeper into the gorge.
 
Seven hours later, when the full moon had traveled all the way across the sky and perched just above the western horizon, Kalay finally grew tired of listening to Zarathan's excessive yawning. He'd been alternately yawning, stumbling, and grumbling since midnight.
She swung around, glared at him, and jerked the knife from his belt. “Walk in front of me,” she commanded. “I'm bringing up the rear now.”
“That's my knife. Give it back!”
“You're barely awake. You couldn't guard your own backside. Now, go on, walk in front of me.”
Cyrus turned at the commotion, saw Kalay with the knife, and looked genuinely relieved. He called, “Brother, could you take Barnabas' arm? I think he's as tired as you are. I don't want him to fall and hurt himself.”
Zarathan tramped forward, roughly gripped Barnabas' arm, and said, “Come along. We'll hold each other up.”
“Thank you, brother. I admit I can barely seem to put one foot in front of the other. I—”
Barnabas stopped suddenly, looked up, then lunged for the cliff so fast he almost jerked Zarathan off his feet.
“Dear Lord,” Zarathan gasped. “Why did you do that?”
Barnabas was panting, his gaze roving the tomb facade. “Cyrus! Please come … come and tell me what you see? My eyes … I'm n-not certain I—”
“I'm right here,” Cyrus said as he strode to Barnabas' side and intently stared at the facade.
Barnabas turned to search Cyrus' face. “Is it? Is—is it what I think it is?”
Cyrus used his finger to trace out the symbol for all to see. “It's an inverted
V
tented over a circle.”
Barnabas' knees started shaking. He staggered forward and propped his hands against the cliff to keep standing. Zarathan and Kalay both rushed up to make certain he was all right.
“Brother?” Zarathan examined his face. “Can I help you?”
“You're exhausted. Why don't you sit for a time,” Kalay suggested, taking his arm to help steady him.
Barnabas did not even look at them. His eyes were riveted to the tomb. “It's the symbol of the
tekton
. The symbol that's on the map, marking the place where the Square of the Column stands.”
A gust of wind swept the gorge and tousled Cyrus' curly black hair around his face. “Does it mean something?”
Barnabas straightened, pulled away from Zarathan and Kalay, and edged closer to the symbol. “It may mean … everything.”
He gently caressed the lines of the symbol, as though trying to memorize every detail.
Cyrus watched him for a time, before asking, “What do you want me to do?”
“Open it. Hurry, before it gets light and someone can stop us.”
Cyrus waved to Zarathan. “Brother, we'll both need to put our shoulders against the blocking stone and push.”
Barnabas dropped to his knees to the left of the blocking stone and clasped his hands in prayer, murmuring while Zarathan and Cyrus pushed.
Kalay stood back.
It didn't take long. The blocking stone grated and scraped, and a musty rush of air escaped from the tomb. It sounded like the last breath of a dying man, and smelled similar.
Cyrus said, “It's open, brother. The moonlight is filling it up.”
Barnabas struggled to his feet and hobbled forward to look inside. “We're lucky we didn't find it earlier. The moon would have been in a different position, and we'd never have seen the symbol of the
tekton,
let alone have light streaming into the tomb.” Without another word, he ducked through the entry and disappeared inside.
Cyrus' gaze sought out Kalay. “I'll stand guard by the entrance. You go with my brothers. If there are inscriptions, they may need you to help translate the Hebrew.”
Zarathan backed away. “Brother, I'd rather stay out here with you. I don't—”
“Zarathan,” Cyrus said in a stern voice. “Barnabas is frail and tired. He doesn't see well in the dark. If he stumbles and falls, I doubt Kalay has the strength to get him on his feet again. He needs you in there.”
Zarathan gulped a swallow, seemed to be mustering his courage, then resolutely walked forward and ducked into the tomb.
BOOK: The Betrayal
2.78Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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