Judas by Frederick Ramsay Page B

our room. Did she try it again with the same results? Did Dinah run? I searched the corridors and the buildings in the small courtyard at the back of the house. The privy stood at one end, open space beyond it, where animals were kept and deliveries made. Attached to the rear wall of the main building were a series of low sheds where Darcas stored her goods and things for which she had no immediate use.
    I called Dinah’s name, not loudly for fear of drawing attention from the atrium and Darcas. As I walked the length of the courtyard, I thought I heard a whimper. It sounded like a small animal and it came from one of the sheds at the far end of the court. All the sheds were sealed with chains and complicated devices that only opened when a specially fashioned strip of metal was inserted in it. I tried to force the device but failed. The shed leaned against the back wall of the main building. It looked solid. But what appeared to be an impenetrable wall turned out to be only thatch that had been plastered over and scored to look like stone blocks. Finally, I came to appreciate Darcas’ tightfistedness.
    I unsheathed my knife and slashed away at the shed where it joined the building. In a moment, I made a hole big enough to allow me to peer into the shed. Someone was in there. Another forty slashes with my knife and I had a hole big enough to squeeze through. I held up my lamp and peered into the darkness. Eyes stared back at me.
    “Dinah, is that you? What are you doing in here?” Darcas must have decided to take the matter of Dinah’s introduction to the atrium into her own hands.
    She held her arm up and with her lost, faraway look, pointed her finger toward the door. I remembered something about that look. I had seen it recently and not on Dinah’s face. No, I had seen it somewhere else, but where? Then I remembered.
    “Dinah, it’s me, Judas. I’m going to get you out of here.”
    She whimpered and pointed at the door again.
    “Don’t worry. Darcas won’t know.”
    Of course, she would know. That was the problem.
    I looked around me. The shed held copperware, pots and urns, vases, and salvers of various sizes and shapes, piles of it. Some had scenes worked into the rims and across the plate face. It was as good as, or better than, any of the pieces Amelabib and I purchased from the coppersmith in Corinth. There was a fortune here—a fortune for anyone who knew when and where to sell it.
    I do not remember how long I sat there, alternately looking at the copper and Dinah. I could get her out, I knew, but if I took Dinah out, Darcas would know I had broken into her shed and she would turn me over to her guards or the police. If that happened, there would be no one to look after Dinah. Then there were all the goods, the copperware, not to mention the things in the other sheds. I guessed if she stinted building one shed, it was a good bet the others would be easy to break into.
    I put my finger to my lips. “I’ll be right back. You be as quiet as you can.” Dinah stared at me. “And don’t leave. Darcas might see you. Do you understand? Stay right here.”
    She nodded.
    No one saw me. I needed a miracle.
    Pagans believe gods involve themselves in their affairs, or at least they used to. Some bore children by women and goddesses sometimes bore men’s children, and sometimes they were so mixed up you could not tell one from the other, which is why, I suppose, Caesar declared himself to be a god, as well. Why not? There is not much to choose between the lot of them and at least Caesar commanded an army, which gave him an edge over the people who ran temples and claimed power from gods. But my mother’s god was another story. Ever since we arrived in Cenchrea, I had made a point of praying to her god. I never really expected any response, but I did it for her and in the secret hope I might be wrong about him.
    “God of my mother,” I prayed, “I need your help. Until this day you have caused me nothing but