Chapter Text
The hot sun beat on Mary and Tamar’s heads as they followed Judas through the olive grove. “I don’t understand,” Tamar commented. “They said this was good soil, but the olives taste horrible.”
“Then we have been swindled,” Judas concluded. “I will speak to the owner’s son and convince him to give us our money back.”
“Is there no one way to fix the soil?” Mary insisted. “Someone who can help us?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Judas replied, with a shrug. “I know nothing about farming, and no one who does.”
“Perhaps Ramah knows something that could help?” Mary mentioned to Tamar.
“Yes, that would be a good idea.”
“I agree, that would be best,” Judas concluded. “But I will still speak to the son, anyway. We don’t need to lose any money over this.” The women agreed and left, while Judas wandered the length of the grove. The owner’s son he had hired to teach Zebedee was, oddly enough, nowhere to be found. All that greeted him was an empty field of olive trees, ripe with rotten fruit. He lingered next to a tree, prying off one of the olives, and popping it into his mouth. Rancid. He spat it out. “Can’t believe we wasted money on this,” he grumbled.
“It’s not a complete waste,” a light feminine voice from behind one of the trees informed him.
Judas started, searching for the voice. “Show yourself,” he demanded.
The voice laughed and a woman appeared from behind a tree. She had long dark hair, tied into a braid, tied back with a bright yellow scarf, and brown eyes that shimmered gold under the sun. “Relax,” she teased. “You act as if I’m going to attack you.”
“Are you?” Judas interrogated.
The woman squinted at him. “No!” she replied, aghast. “Why would I?”
“You never know these days,” he replied, not shifting his defensive stance. “You could’ve been a Roman, or worse.”
She leaned against the tree. “What’s worse than a Roman?”
Judas didn’t answer, instead he shifted the topic. “Where is the owner of this grove’s son? I spoke to him yesterday. We made a deal.”
The woman blinked at him. “Why should I answer when I don’t even know your name?”
A fair point. He mulled this over, weighing his options. He could either refuse to answer and move on, which could endanger his chances of getting his money back, or he could tell her his name, and risk her sharing that information with others. However, something about her seemed trustworthy. She didn’t seem shifty, there was nothing about her that gave the appearance that she was hiding something. He decided to give her a chance. “It’s Judas,” he replied.
The woman smiled and tilted her head in greeting. “Hadassah,” she answered back.
“Now, Hadassah,” Judas said, calmly. “Will you please tell me where the owner of this grove’s son is? It’s urgent.”
“To that I give a very simple answer,” Hadassah begin, coming closer and picking off an olive. He was surprised that she didn’t cringe at its sourness. “I’ve lived next to door to this grove all my life and I can confidently tell you, the owner’s dead, and he had no son. The man was single and childless, and spent his whole life tending to this grove and feeding the surrounding villages with its olives, but once he passed, with no one to inherit, well…” She patted the tree trunk. “You know what happened.”
Judas’ looked around in dismay. “But-who was that man I spoke to yesterday?” he cried, distressed. “He took my money!”
“A very convincing swindler,” she replied.
“Then-then we must find him!” Judas scrambled. “Force him to give me the money back!”
“Capernaum is a very small town,” Hadassah countered gently. “I doubt he stuck around. Your swindler must be halfway to Aphek by now.”
“No, I refuse to believe that,” he replied sharply. “I need that money.”
“Why?” she questioned. “Why are some pieces of silver so important to you?”
Judas sighed and leaned against an olive tree. Hadassah joined him, leaning beside him, at a respectable enough distance that wouldn’t cause any passersby to give a second glance. “That money was to support my Rabbi’s ministry,” he explained.
“You’re a student of the Law?” Hadassah asked.
“Not exactly,” Judas replied. “My Rabbi isn’t exactly your usual type of Rabbi. He’s…different, the things He says…anyway, He has many followers, and I’m His newest one. But there were twelve others before me, so now…”
“Now it’s extra important for you to make your mark,” Hadassah finished.
Judas met her eyes, his own shining with sadness and distress. “I can’t fail Him.”
“I understand, and I think I know whom you speak of. I saw His sermon – it was unlike anything I’d ever heard before.”
“Does this mean you’ll help me?”
“It does, but that still doesn’t mean we’ll be able to find your thief, Judas,” Hadassah stressed. “We wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
He paused, a thought crossing his mind. “I might know someone.”