The Royal Company of Beth Horon
1: The Sixteenth of Ab.
“The daughters of Jerusalem come out and dance in the vineyards.
What would they say? ‘Young man! lift up your eyes!
See what you choose for yourself’ “ (Mishnah, Taanit 4:8).
“And so it came to pass,” said Judah, “That the Royal company of Beth Horon had captured Antipater and destroyed his Guard, which he armed in the Roman manner. Alas, they could not save their Rightful king, Judah Aristoble, whose throat the Idumean had slashed as his men were dying around him.“ He paused, noticing the attentive look on Aristogeiton’s face, “Ever since then, the 16th of Ab is our day of celebration and every one of our firstborn sons is named Judah, in honor of the Suffering King”. “This,” commented the Alexandrian, leading his mule up the carefully terraced hillscape, “Sounds like a very inconvenient arrangement, how do you distinguish between all the different Judahs?” the starved animal now seemed to be in better spirits, his keen nose had caught the scent of sweet grapeskins, and did his best to climb towards its source. “It’s our usage,” said Judah, “to add a Greek surname to most children’s name signifying one thing or the other. I, for instance” he said bemused, “am known as Pythos, since I was born early due to my mother being frightened by a passing snake”. Pythos turned to his interlocutor and asked, in a curious tone “How did they name children in Alexandria?” “Well,” said Aristogeiton, “in sundry ways, my father, for instance,” he embarrassedly admitted “had had business connections in Athens and thought this would be the politic thing to do. Besides, my mother wanted to name me Tobias, so ‘Ariston’ was a convenient middle ground.” They now finished climbing the last terrace. The sound of cymbals, horns, tambourins and lyre was no longer a fading echo in the background, but a present and mighty melody engulfing the vineyrads into which they stepped. Intertwined with the sound was the sharp scent of old wine and freshly trodden grapes, of whole oxen roasting on iron spits and the whole range of human musks, odors and perfumes. Above all that flew the wondrous din of female laughter and masculine cheer. Combined with the colors and shapes that revealed themselves now to the travelers - rows of delicate figures in white, dancing through green vines and purple plenty, disturbed from time to time by bold blue and black shapes daring a step between them - evinced a celebration. ‘Twas the Sixteenth of Ab and the maidens and the lads of Beth Horon were both ready to dance their hearts out.
2: The Vineyrad
“Let me sing of my well-beloved,A song of my beloved touching his vineyard.My well-beloved had a vineyardIn a very fruitful hill.” (Isaiah 5:1)
“Judanna! my Judanna!” a cry came, in a voice like strings in a Spring night, and Ariston of Alexandria raised his eyes from the mule he unharnessed and let feed on the green grass and fresh shoots thriving here, in the carefully watered vineyard. Towards them came a light, a star, a sun brought down to Earth- crowned with a golden flame over a black and reddish mane- and the fallen star was clad in white and sandaled in embers. Or so it seemed, until it raised two delicate arms and fell on Pythos’ neck. Ariston saw now that the sun no longer shone on her bridal crown, that this was no floating goddess or a fallen star, but a woman of flesh and blood. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose flushed red, her bright, ivory-like forehead rising high. Her hair, which changed its color on such bright day between clay-like brown and pitch-black - and all the lovelier for it. He caught a glimpse of her eyes - green and gold danced around the deep chasms she had for pupils. He knew that his information was correct - his mark was not a man to go after an airy flirt. “Where have you been?” asked the lovely image in white, “ who is that with you? I don’t know him!” “My apologies, martha,” said the dusty wayfarer, mustering his best manners “my name is Aristogeiton son of Philipos the shipmaster of Alexandria. Your husband was kind enough”, he knowingly inserted the error in that sentence to delight her, “to help me and poor Poleimon here on the road.” “My Judan is always helpful, especially to strangers” said the fair lady with a laugh, as pure as a living fountain. “ And what polite and distinguished strangers one may find on the road these days! alas,” her voice turned mockingly sad, but Ariston could sense real frustration behind the mockery “I am not yet his wife, merely his betrothed. I am Ruth, daughter of Josei Nephros, not yet Judah Pythos’ wife.’’ As much as her discourse continued on the topic of flowers, canopies, jewels and homes, she impressed Ariston with her quick mind and sense of frugality as the three walked towards the heart of the feast. Mostly, she was the one who knew what was necessary for the facilitation of happy nuptial in the way of martial goods, how those could be acquired, and how they may be had for a lesser expense. The music grew louder and they met the first of the dancers. Young women in white and men in black, brown and blue rushing together and apart, some sandaled, some barefoot. Some of the men were armed with decorated weapons, few were without any. The women were all bare-headed, wearing their hair in braids diverse in shape and number. Some wore beads, shells and other petty knick-knacks, others had none. Apart from Ruth, none wore gold, as today this honor was reserved for the bride, who will dance today one last time before consummating her marriage in the coming year. The happy couple proceeded through the vineyard, sometimes walking, sometimes engaging politely in one of the dancing rows on their way, but always departing with apologies and motioning Aristogeiton to come with them. They finally reached a heavily laden table at the heart of the vineyard, over which the vines were made to grow over a reed-woven arch. Around the low table, under the symbolic gateway sat nine venerable looking men, surrounded on all sides by attendants, lackeys and supplicants. “My masters, most expert Judges,” said Judah, “I bring before you the matter of Zechariah son of Azur, who wishes to enter our Company.” 3: The Proposition
“And a spirit lifted me up between the earth and the heaven,And brought me in the visions of God to Jerusalem, to the door… that looketh toward the north;Where was the seat of the image of jealousy, which provoketh to jealousy. “ (Ezekiel 8:3).
Ruth felt fear growing inside her stomach like an ill- conceived child, while anger crept to up her neck and cheeks like a snake crawling up a tree. This was one of the days dedicated to her - her last dance! - but the vultures of the company never left her Judah alone. That foreigner he picked up on the road - with his silly clothing and ridiculous lisp- didn’t improve her mood. the man was perfectly polite, but he kept asking her to translate for him, claiming to not understand the sophisticated, legal Hebrew spoken - she was sure that he was lying.
“Judah is asking them to admit Zechariah, whose father is Treasurer of the Temple”, she told Aristogeiton in the calmest, happiest voice she could muster (her aunt called it “the Bride voice”), “into the company. Marin Tarphon,” she nodded in the direction of a greybeard wearing a soft, tall cap, whose voice rose with passion and sank with deliberation as he numbered his fingers, “is objecting saying that a priest cannot take an oath to fight, as he is not allowed to touch weapons or corpses.”
Aristogeiton nodded. He knew of course who Tarphon son of Abba was, he knew that he was rich, learned and had many sons, grandsons, cousins and nephews spread all over the Judean hill-country. His positions were well known and highly regarded even in the Temple. He also had a reputation as the most stubborn man west of the Euphrates.
Ariston had made it his business to know the name of every important person in the Company before he left Alexandria.
He recognized Zecariah Eucles, a rich freeholder in the white garments of a Babylonian-trained scholar. Judah Pindar, who had a share in half the ship going out of Japha-Harbor.
None of the notables of that little society were unknown to him at least in general. The Machine, after all, could not be made with clogged pipes.