My Glorious Brothers by Howard Fast Page B

wait.” He had a little silver whistle that Ruben had made for him. “When I call you, come—those who have spears with spears and the rest with bows. Watch your shafts when you drop them and shoot well.”
    â€œAnd the men from Goumad?”
    â€œIt’s too late,” Judas said, “and this will be for Modin.”
    â€œWe could go to the hills now,” someone said.
    â€œAnd we could bend our knees to Apelles. Go to your houses, and those of you who have no heart, stay there, stay there.”
    They did as he said, and doors closed and the village became silent. The Adon and Rabbi Ragesh and Judas and Eleazar and I stood in the square and waited. I had my knife in my belt, and under his cloak Judas wore the long two-edged sword of Pericles. Then Jonathan ran from the house and joined us. I would have sent him back, but Judas looked at me and nodded—and I held my peace. A moment later, John joined us, and with him was Ruben ben Tubel, cloaked and clenching his hammer under his cloak. Close together, the eight of us waited, until presently we heard the beat of a drum and the metallic clash of armor—and then the mercenaries came, first a rank of twenty, then Apelles in his litter, then sixty more in three ranks of twenty, no horsemen now, for which I breathed a sigh of relief, but walking among the mercenaries a Jew, a white robed Levite whom I recognized as one of the Temple attendants from Jerusalem.
    The slaves set down the litter, and Apelles hopped out, grotesquely magnificent in a golden mantle and a little red skirt. How well I remember him as he stood there in the cool Judean morning, the apostle of civilization, his hair carefully set and curled, his cupid bow lips delicately rouged, his pink cheeks carefully shaven, his jowls underlined with a golden necklace, his capon bosom swelling the golden mantle, his fat thighs setting off his flounced skirt, his little feet encased in high silver sandals that wound up his dimpled calves.
    â€œThe Adon Mattathias,” he greeted us, “the noble lord of a noble people.” My father nodded, but said nothing. “And is this a welcome?” he lisped. “Are eight men a fitting delegation for your warden?”
    â€œThe people are in their houses.”
    â€œTheir pigpens,” Apelles smiled.
    â€œWe will call them if you wish,” the Adon said, gently and respectfully.
    â€œPresently, presently,” Apelles agreed. “You suit my mood. There is a civilized way of doing everything. Jason!” he cried, waving at the Levite.
    Hesitantly, the Jew joined him. The man was afraid. His face was as white as his cap, and his tiny beard and his two tiny mustaches trembled visibly.
    â€œNow welcome, Joseph ben Samuel,” my father said gently, “to the poor hospitality of Modin.”
    â€œ Shalom ,” the Levite whispered.
    â€œAn ancient greeting, a warm greeting,” the Adon said. “And peace unto you, Joseph ben Samuel. Our house is enriched with an elder of the tribe of Levi.”
    â€œHe comes to the sacrifice,” Apelles lisped smilingly. “The great King to his poor wardens saith thus, ‘My heart is heavy with this dark folk and their dark worship. An unseen God makes a secretive and vile people.’ So saith the King to me, his poor warden, and what else should I do but obey his orders? Yet I brought the good Jason here, a Levite, so that you might sacrifice in your own way.” He clapped his pudgy hands, and two mercenaries fetched a bronze altar they had been carrying and set it down before us. It was a slim thing, about four feet high, and crowned with the figure of Athene.
    â€œPallas Athene,” Apelles said, mincing around the altar. “She was my own choice—Wisdom. Knowledge comes first and then civilization. Is that not so? Later Zeus and the swift Hermes. A complete man is a full man, is that not so? Make a flame, Jason, and burn the