The Galilean Secret: A Novel Read Free Page B

that rose from the soles of her feet, up her legs, through her torso, to the place where their lips met. His sweet scent, combined with the pine and traces of lemon and hibiscus from the garden below, enveloped her in what seemed a dream. The night became luminous, as if possessed by a hidden radiance that only he controlled. She held perfectly still, savoring each shared heartbeat.
     
    Her rage at the Romans surfaced like oil in a boiling cauldron of water. Dismas understands that love is more than doing your parents’ bidding, and that freedom must be fought for. She saw him as an idealist, a man on a righteous mission. That is why he had volunteered to go to the caves at Qumran, near the Dead Sea, to serve under the fierce and heroic Zealot commander, Barabbas.
     
    The first splashes of dawn were reflecting pale light into the room. She gazed into Dismas’ steely dark eyes, which were focused like a warrior’s. A thud from the hall interrupted her thoughts. Dismas tensed, shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet, preparing for a fight. She waved him toward the wooden chest: he hurried to it, lifted the lid and ducked inside. She stuffed her bag under the bed and slid beneath the blanket, her heart throbbing. She pretended to be asleep and waited for her brother or father to storm into the room.
     
    Perhaps this is an omen. An omen of the trouble that will fall on us . If her burly brother searched the room and found Dismas, the two would fight. Her father, Nathan, would rush to Gideon’s aid and help him to prevail. She and Dismas would be publicly humiliated and severely punished, if not stoned. Not even Gabriel would want her then.
     
    But no sound followed the thud. Then there were plodding footsteps. Were they headed toward her room? She braced for a confrontation, but the footsteps stopped. Her heart beat easier as she realized what had happened: her sixty-six-year-old father had gotten up to relieve himself, as he often did in the early morning. Lying perfectly still, she waited until the soft, barefooted steps signaled that her father had gone back to bed.
     
    Dismas poked his head out of the chest, glanced around the room and then dashed to the window. Judith was close behind. One leg over the ledge, he paused to face her and said, “As a Zealot I am determined to return Israel to the true worship of God. I’ve never met a woman who shares my two great passions—love and freedom.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I would never pressure you to come with me, but I want you to. I want you to be my wife and fight for freedom with me.”
     
    She could not resist the wildness in his eyes. It was as if a dam had broken and a river was sweeping her downstream on whitewater rapids. She had tried to forget about Dismas, but she could not help herself. At twenty-one Dismas was four years older than she, and had the confidence and life experience that she lacked. His strength made her more secure than money ever could. She pulled the bag from under the bed. I must go with him , she told herself, reaffirming her passion for him and the Zealot cause. “You are my future now, Dismas.” She whispered under her breath. “Promise you’ll never disappoint me.”
     
    The first rays of sun were painting the horizon pink. A cock crowed in the distance. When Judith saw Dismas on the ground, she tossed her bag down, took the rope and boosted herself over the window ledge. Her feet dangled precariously until they found the outer wall and pushed against it. Not daring to breathe, the rope chafing her hands, she leaned back as a burning ache shot from her shoulders to her fingertips. Then her foot slipped. Her knee hit the wall, cutting the skin.
     
    “Who’s there?” Her father’s demanding voice came from his window. She froze, dangling against the stone.
     
    “Hurry!” Dismas said.
     
    She could hear people rushing into her room.
     
    “Go ahead and jump! I’ll catch you.” Dismas held out his